Murder In Collinsport
by futurelyfamous
Summary: The devil is at work in the town of Collinsport. Quentin Collins has gone missing, David Collins is having problems with the family business, and a series of murders plagues the small, and once quiet town.
1. Part One

Chapter 1  
  
Maggie Evans woke to a new morning. The sun was shining into her room through her two French doors, which were laden with heavy white drapes. She sat up in her bed, and, brushing her hair out of her face, rose from the bed and walked over to the coat rack and grabbed her robe which she put on. After tying the robe strings, she opened the door of her room and walked down the hall to the kitchen. After turning the coffee pot on, and hearing it start to make the coffee she had prepared the night before, she exited the kitchen and walked into the living room, and, after opening the front door and picking up the local Collinsport newspaper, plopped herself down on the couch. Opening the thin paper, and glancing over some of the lame articles that this little town called hard news, Maggie found one that caught her eye. The title read Local Girl Found Dead. She read the article with much interest, and, after finishing, looked up and stared at the wall. The article was a short one, with only one paragraph:  
  
Local girl, Andrea Brown, was found dead last night in her home. Not much is known about how she died, except for the few details the police are releasing. "Whoever killed this poor girl put her through much terror," says local Sheriff Tom Windfield, referring to the horrible state the young girls body was in. "Obviously this person is a madman, and should be considered extremely dangerous," the Sheriff goes on to say. The girls body was found brutally beaten and missing a gold and silver locket, that friends say she never took off. More will be known at the next police conference, tomorrow at noon.  
  
Maggie was so lost in thought that she almost didn't hear the coffee maker beeping to let her know it was finished brewing. When she realized it was beeping, she threw the newspaper off her lap and onto the couch, and entered the kitchen. Grabbing a tea cup and saucer from the cabinet and placing the saucer on the counter, she picked up the coffee pot and started pouring coffee into her cup. She became lost in thought again. 'Who would do this? Has it all started again?', she thought, remembering the 3 violent murders that had taken place not 5 years before. Suddenly, she realized she was overfilling her cup because of the burning sensation she felt on her hand. "Damn it," she said to herself. Hurriedly placing the coffee pot back in the brewing machine, and the cup into the sink, she grabbed the rag hanging over the side of the sink and started wiping up the mess on the floor.  
  
After wiping up the mess, and wiping her cup off, she went back into the living room with her cup and saucer, and sat down on the couch once again. As she drank her coffee, she looked through the rest of the paper, trying not to remember the article she had read only a few minutes ago. When she had finished with the paper, and her coffee, she took the cup and saucer back into the kitchen and placed them into the sink. Looking at the clock above the refrigerator and seeing it was almost 7, she rushed into her room to get dressed.  
  
Driving down Colton Road, she couldn't stop herself from thinking about the article she had read in the paper. She couldn't imagine why anyone would want to do something like that, and, she couldn't understand who was doing it. After all, they had caught the man who had committed those murders five years earlier. Why did all the horrible people gravitate to Collinsport? What was so special about their little town? Maggie wished the town she called home could be called a 'little town'. The town wasn't huge, but, with all the publicity it had been getting throughout the country because of the violent deaths, the town was becoming more well known. It had actually drawn more weirdoes to the town. People like psychics and mediums who were all trying to contact the persons slain, and the spirits of those who had slain them. Many of them started at Collinwood, for with its rich past in mysterious deaths and ghosts, they all thought that perhaps the great house was the center of all the activity throughout the town. However Maggie didn't agree with them. While she didn't know much about the subject, she thought they had to be wrong because the recent murder, as well as the murders committed years ago, had all taken place within the town, not on the grounds of the Collins Mansion. 'Who knows. Maybe those wackos think it started at Collinwood and spread to the town,' Maggie thought. As she was driving along, she recalled a run-in she had had with one of the so called 'mediums' one day while she was shopping. The woman just kept staring at her, and when Maggie asked her why she was, the woman simply said that she wasn't staring at her, but that she was staring at the man beside her. Maggie didn't know what man was standing beside her, and, after questioning the woman about the mans appearance, she assumed it was her father the 'medium' was seeing.  
  
It made Maggie feel secure to know her father was always around and watching over her. What with her very lonely lifestyle, he was the only man in her life, dead or alive. It is true, she had dated a few guys here and there over the years, but ever since Joe was killed she hadn't been the same. Oh how it hurt to think about Joe. She tried not to dredge up the memory but it was to late. She remembered coming home from work one day to find that Joe was not home. She became quite concerned when he did not return as the hours were passing by. She had called all of their friends and none of them had seen him since the morning—whether they saw him at work, or at the coffee shop. Maggie only worried more as she sat up all night, and she told herself that if she went to sleep it may not be so bad. So, after taking a sleeping pill and curling up in her bed, but leaving her door open in hopes she would wake up when Joe came home, Maggie tried to clear her mind of all things so as to ease into a more peaceful sleep.  
  
When Maggie did wake up the next morning, she found that Joe had still not returned and this only worried her more. When she went outside to get into her car to go to work, she saw him sitting on the porch swing. She walked over to him and let out a extremely loud scream. Her husband was covered in blood. There was a gun in his hand, and from the little Maggie had seen, she realized that he had put a gun in his mouth. She called the police, and they took care of the rest. A few weeks later, the sheriff called to inform her that Joe had not committed suicide, but that someone had killed him and placed the gun in his hand. She listened to this between sobs.  
  
Maggie slammed on the brakes and was thrown forward in her car. Her daydream had been suddenly interrupted, and of her own accord. It was amazing to her that she saw the little squirrel crossing the road, and that she was in mind enough to stop the car before she hit the poor thing. She waited until it passed across the road and then continued on.  
  
Arriving at the Collinsport Inn, which she and Joe bought before he was murdered, she parked her car and entered. She still worked behind the counter in the restaurant, and after opening up her office and placing her things inside, that is where she went.  
  
"Morning Debby," Maggie greeted one of her co-workers. "Mornin' Mag. Not to heavy this morning," Debby said to her boss. "Now Debby, I won't have you trying to convince me to stop working behind the counter again. We have been over this before. You know I would rather be out here with people than cooped up in that office with paper work all day," Maggie retorted, refilling some sugar holders from the tables. "I know, I know. I suppose that is just the kind of person you are," Debby answered back. "Now you are getting it." Maggie walked out from behind the counter and placed the sugar holders back on the tables. A man entered and sat down at a table, draping his long coat over the chair next to him. Debby went over to him. "What can I get you?" she asked him with a smile. "Coffee, black, and a piece of pie please," the man answered politely. Debby went over behind the counter, and Maggie already had his coffee poured. Debby cut his slice of pie and took the items over to him. Maggie looked up at the man and smiled, and he smiled back at her. "Thank you," the man said to Debby. Debby walked over behind the counter and began fiddling with the door to the refrigerator. Maggie walked over and gave it the 'special touch' it needed to close. When she turned around she saw the man drinking his coffee and smiling at her. "He's checking you out," Debby whispered to Maggie, hoping the man didn't hear her. "Debby, stop it," Maggie said to her. "What? He is. Go talk to him. It'll be good for you to get out again," Debby told her. "He is not checking me out Debby," Maggie said. "He is to! Go talk to him!" Debby said to her. Maggie thought for a moment. She went out from behind the counter and began to take chairs off of the tables. "Are you new around here?" Maggie asked him, setting a chair on the floor. "I mean, I haven't seen you around here before." "I guess you can say I am new here," the man answered her. "What do you mean?" she asked, brushing a few crumbs off of a table and into her hand before putting them into a waste basket. "I have been here once before, but that was many years ago," the man clarified his pervious statement. "I see," Maggie said putting another chair on the floor. "So what brings you back, if you don't mind me asking." "Business," he answered taking a sip of his coffee and then a bite of his pie. "Oh? Anyone I know?" Maggie asked him, taking a sugar holder she had missed and setting it on the counter to be refilled. "If you know the Collinses, then yes," the man answered checking his watch. "Yes, I do. Which one?" Maggie said placing yet another chair on the floor. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to pry." "I don't mind. It is one, David Collins. He has taken over the family business since his father, Roger, has retired. Is that correct?" the man asked. "I believe so," Maggie said putting the last chair to the floor from the table beside where the man was sitting. She turned to walk back to the counter but tripped, and the man quickly rose from his seat and caught her. They smiled at each other. The man gently put Maggie back to her feet. "Thank you," she said to him, still smiling. "May I ask what your name is?" "John Crosic." "I'm Maggie Evans, Mr. Crosic. I hope your business goes well," Maggie said to him. "Call me John." Maggie returns behind the counter. Debby turns to her.  
  
"Ask him to dinner!" Debby tells Maggie. "Debby!" "What? Do it! You and I both know you like him!" Debby whispers. Maggie shot her a look. She paused for a moment. "So are you doing anything tonight Mr. Crosic?" Maggie asked him. "John, and no I'm not." "The would you like to go to dinner with me?" Maggie asked him. "Sure, I can make that. Where should I meet you?" "How about here, at, let's say 7?" "See you then," John said picking up his coat and leaving.  
  
Chapter 2  
  
Roger Collins sat in the drawing room of Collinwood when there was a knock at the door. "I'll get it," Roger says, getting up. "Father, sit down. I will get it," David Collins says rising from the desk. "David, just because I am older doesn't mean I can't do regular things anymore," Roger says, continuing his pursuit of the door, rolling his oxygen tank behind him. The person at the door knocks again. "I'm coming!" Roger yells as loud as he can, which isn't loud. Roger reaches the door and opens it. "Mr. Crosic! How good to see you again! Please, come in," Roger tells John Crosic, and then moving to the side to let him in before closing the door. "David is in the drawing room."  
  
John Crosic goes into the drawing room and sees David, whom he greets. David asks him if he would mind talking in the study. Crosic says he doesn't, so they go to the study. Roger goes back into the drawing room and sits down, picking up the business section of the paper.  
  
In the study, John had taken a seat while David poured drinks for the two of them. After David handed Crosic his drink, and sat down, they began. "David, you already know that the news I have for you isn't good," Crosic began. "Yes, John, I know. Just tell me, how bad is it?" "It's bad, David. When you invested in the new computer company that was trying to start a server up here, I am afraid you may not have done your homework. The company bottomed out, and, as a result, you lost your investment. Now, I know that one investment shouldn't mean very much to you, but, given the current circumstances with your shipping business, it may hit you harder than previously thought," Crosic explained. "John, I'm not stupid. I know all of this. Just tell me how much money I have lost," David said, searching for an answer in Crosic's face. "You have lost over half of your fortune, and I'm afraid that if business doesn't pick up, you may loose the rest. You know that the ships aren't coming all the way up here anymore. They are stopping at Baltimore, in Maryland, or in Rhode Island. Now things are starting to be hauled up here by truck. Maybe you should start a truck company." "Will I have to file bankruptcy?" David asked, hoping the answer would be no. "That all depends on you. Take a look at the numbers," Crosic said, opening his briefcase and pulling out a few papers and handing them to David. "If business doesn't pick up, or you don't find a new investor, your company will go under and you will have to file bankruptcy. David, I'm sorry." "It's not your fault. I know I shouldn't have invested in that company, but father said it was solid, and he is a good businessman." "David, I don't have to tell you that you shouldn't rely on your father to make the business decisions anymore." "I know, I know. Now John, do I have enough money to start a truck shipping company?" "I believe you have enough to start a small one, but nothing that is the size of your current shipping company. But you know, maybe you should just make investments and retire with what money you do have. I mean, your mansion is paid off, and has been since it was built." "I just don't know what to do John. I could start another company, and, yes, I could retire, but I know that I can find some way to bring the money back to my shipping company. Find other investors, and buy a few ports to the south." "That's an idea. But I must warn you, don't try to buy huge ports. You may squander your fortune without meaning to. Now, if that's all, I have other appointments that I cannot afford to be late for. I've got a date tonight." "Really, with whom?" David said, glad to help change the subject. "A local girl by the name of Maggie Evans." "Maggie? Where did you meet her?" "At the diner in town this morning. Nice girl. She asked me to dinner." "Well, thanks for your help John, and good luck on your date tonight." David and John rose from their seats, shook hands, and David showed him out.  
  
That night, Maggie was running a bit late getting ready for her date. She had come home and taken a nap that was supposed to be short, but lasted longer than she wanted it to. She was wearing a stunning blue dress, and shoes to match. As she combed her hair and sprayed some hairspray in it, she thought about what might develop from this date. Was she ready to be with a man again? It had been five years since Joe was killed, and it is true she did have some dates since then, but she had a different feeling about this one. For some reason she felt like it would last. At least, last longer than her previous relationships did. Maggie walked over to her dresser and put her pearl necklace on, as well as earrings. She looked up at herself in the mirror, carefully checking to make sure there were no flaws with her appearance, and, when she was satisfied there wasn't, she left her house to return to the Inn where she was to meet John.  
  
When she arrived, John was waiting for her at a table in the diner. She walked over to him, and he rose from his seat, taking her hand and kissing it. She apologized for being late, and he told her it was all right, that he had only just arrived himself.  
  
"Where would you like to have dinner?" he asked her. She told him she wasn't sure, but that they could go to a new Italian restaurant just down the street. He agreed, and they left.  
  
Over dinner, they told each other their life's story, leaving out certain details that each one felt to personal to share with the other on the first date. Maggie left out the part about Joe being killed, feeling that she didn't want to ruin the night she hoped would turn out to be perfect. She ordered a chicken alfreado dish, while he ordered the traditional Italian spaghetti. As he sipped his wine, he asked her what had kept her in this small town for her whole life, and she replied by saying that she couldn't imagine living in a big city, and that she liked things to be quiet. He told her that things weren't exactly quiet anymore with the violence that had manifested itself within the town in the past few years. She agreed, but she told him she wouldn't give her little cottage home up for anything. When they were finished, and the bill came, he was the gentleman and paid, as any gentleman should. After dinner John asked Maggie if she would like to come back to his place for some coffee, and she agreed.  
  
Entering Crosic's house, Maggie looked around as people often do when in new surroundings. "I thought you said you hadn't been in town long," Maggie said to him, looking at some of the beautiful antique furniture sitting in his living room. "I haven't been in town long," Crosic said, taking his and Maggie's coats and hanging them up on the coat rack beside the door. "Then, how is it you have this house, having only been in town for a day?" Maggie questioned him. "Oh! Do you remember I told you that I had been here once before? Well, when I was here, I was here for about a month, and I bought this house completely furnished from David Collins. That is why it is a bit dusty," Crosic explained, walking over to Maggie. 'A little dusty?' Maggie thought to herself. She figured she'd give him a break, having only been in town for a day. "How do you take your coffee?" Crosic asked her. "Black, two sugars, and cream, thank you," Maggie replied. "Please, have a seat, and I will go make the coffee," Crosic said, going into the kitchen.  
  
Maggie walked around the room as she heard John clinking around in the kitchen. She studied the knickknacks he had on the shelves around the room, and on the mantel. She looked at the various pictures, nothing really told any kind of story about him. There was one thing that caught her eye. Hanging over a miniature statuette of a mans head was hanging a gold locket. Silver carvings were on the face of the locket, and Maggie thought it was very beautiful. She picked it up and opened it, revealing a picture of a man she had never seen before. Suddenly, she remembered seeing someone wearing this. She couldn't place the person with the necklace. "Two sugars?" Crosic yelled from the kitchen. "Yes," Maggie replied, still in thought about the locket. She then realized that she saw Andrea Brown, the girl recently murdered, wearing it in the grocery store one day. John reentered the living room. He handed Maggie her coffee and they went over to the couch, Maggie still carrying the locket.  
  
Chapter 3  
  
"Where did you get this locket?" Maggie questioned John. "That, oh, I found it lying in the street when I stepped out of my taxi earlier this morning. Why?" "Oh, I know who's it is, that's all," Maggie explained, just realizing that she had made herself a target of knowing to much. She became very nervous. "Really? Whose is it?" "A-andrea Brown's," Maggie said shakily. "Maggie, what's wrong? You suddenly seem uncomfortable," Crosic said, taking a sip of his coffee and then setting the cup down on the coffee table. "Its, its nothing, really." "Well, since you know the woman that locket belongs to, could you take it back to her for me?" "No, I can't." "Why? Are you not friends with her? I wouldn't ask you to do anything you don't want to do." "Its not that, its just," Maggie paused for a moment, "she's dead. She was murdered yesterday. You didn't know? It was in the paper." "No, I don't read the paper. That's horrible! What should I do with the locket?" "I don't know, I guess-I guess you could take it to the police," Maggie said. She wanted to get out of there. She didn't really trust John Crosic as much as she did before. "Listen, thank you for this evening, I am going to go now. Goodnight," Maggie said rising. John walked her to the door and helped her put her coat on. She said goodnight to him once again, and left.  
  
At Collinwood, David and Carolyn are the only ones still awake at the late hour, and they are sitting in the drawing room talking.  
  
"Carolyn, did you hear one thing I told you? We may loose the fortune," David said, feeling that Carolyn didn't quite grasp the seriousness of the situation. "Yes, I heard you David, but I fail to see the problem. The mansion is paid off. You don't have to worry about that. Why don't you retire and save the money we do have? Then you won't have to spend it on business. Besides, even if all our money is gone, it doesn't matter. Money isn't everything David," Carolyn said, looking at David with a quite calm look on her face. "Look, I know you don't think money is everything, and neither do I. I am just worried about what we will do if we haven't any money." "Well, we will have to get jobs like normal people. It won't be that bad. Do like John told you. Retire. I know you will miss being in the business world, but, you will have to let it go. You have two choices- try to keep the business alive, and most likely loose the money because of it, and hope to make it back someday, or, you can retire and save what money is left." "See, that's just it, I like being a businessman. What would I do around here all day without having some kind of papers or something to look over? You just don't understand. You were never in the business. You haven't had to worry about money problems," David said, getting up to pour himself a drink. "You're right, I haven't been in the business world, and I believe I am much better off because of it. I mean, look at me. I am not stressed out all the time because I don't have to worry about money. I live a happy simple life, and I like it that way. I wouldn't trade my lifestyle for anything. Not even a truck load of money," Carolyn told David, watching him pour his drink with a disapproving look. "Maybe you could start a small business consultant firm. Then you would still be in the business life, but instead of worrying about your own business, you could worry about and help other peoples businesses. You are a brilliant businessman, I am sure you can fine something." "You're right. I am a brilliant businessman. You know, based on your suggestion about starting a consultant firm, you may make a brilliant businesswoman," David said, taking a sip of his drink. "Oh no, don't try to drag me into your world. I just told you I would prefer not to be involved in that sort of thing," Carolyn said, getting up and walking over to sit down by the fire. "Okay, okay. Now, what would you say to running the consultant business out of Collinwood?" David asks, already knowing her answer will be a disapproving one. "You know already that I think that is a bad idea. There will be countless people coming in and out of this house everyday. Complete strangers. Some of them could even be psychos. No, just convert the office you have the shipping business in to a consulting business office. That will be a better idea. Now, enough talk about business because I am tired. I will see you in the morning," Carolyn says, standing up and yawning. "Goodnight," David says to her as she leaves the room.  
  
Maggie takes her keys out of the ignition of the car, and leans back in the seat. 'Is he the killer? Have I been wrong to think things may work out between us?' Maggie thought, staring at the door of her cottage. 'Was he telling the truth about finding Andrea's locket on the ground? The article said she was killed at her home, not out in the town. Could she have dropped it on her way home?' All these questions that didn't have answers. Maggie was tire, and she could and should ignore John Crosic from now on. But what if he was a stalker?  
  
"Ahh!" Maggie screamed. She looked out of the drivers side window to see John Crosic standing there. He was the one who knocked on the window. She wasn't sure whether or not she should open the door and get out, or stay in the car. She decided to get out, and hope that nothing would happen. Maggie opened the car door and stepped out, quickly shutting the door behind her, and staying close to the car. "What do you want, John?" she asked him. "You dropped this at my house when you were leaving. It was all I could do to keep up with you on the road, since I didn't know where you live," Crosic said, holding up an earring. "Thank you, I didn't even notice I had dropped it. Well, if you'll excuse me, I'm very tired, and I would like to go to bed. Goodnight, again," Maggie said taking the earring from John and then walking over to the cottage door. "Goodnight," Crosic said, going over and getting in his car. Maggie pretended to fiddle with her keys in the dark, even dropping them so as to prolong the time she was outside, so she could make sure that Crosic actually did leave and go down the road. When she couldn't see his car anymore, she opened the door, and then locked it as soon as she was inside.  
  
Maggie walked into her home and threw her coat and purse down on the couch. She ran into the bathroom, opened the toilet lid, and threw up. After flushing the toilet, she rinsed her mouth out in the sink and then sat down and leaned against the bathroom wall. Why did the first guy she liked in a while have to be a killer? She didn't know whether or not she should turn him in. What if he wasn't the killer? Then she would be turning in an innocent man, putting him through hell. Maybe she could visit David Collins and see what he could tell her about John. But what if David told John that she asked about him? Would he think she was becoming suspicious of him?  
  
Maggie was tired of thinking. She needed to go to sleep. She picked herself up off the floor and went into her bedroom. Changing into her nightgown, and taking her jewelry off, she laid down in her bed. Almost instantly, she fell asleep.  
  
Maggie found herself somehow walking through the woods. She was looking for something, she didn't know what. Looking up, from her feet to eye level, she saw she was standing in front of a small cabin. Her feet were muddy, and her nightgown torn from branches. She walked up to the house, and, without knocking on the door, entered. She looked around. She had never been here before. Maggie heard a woman scream. She looked down a hallway and at the end, there was a door that was cracked open, and a small amount of light was flooding into the hallway. Maggie walked down the hall until she reached the door. Afraid to go in, she peeked in the crack of the door. She saw a man beating up a woman. He turned the woman around and Maggie recognized her as Andrea Brown. The man threw her around like a rag doll. He threw her into a desk. She hit it, and fell to the floor, crying. He told her to get up and stop crying. When Andrea didn't, he went over to her, picked her up, punched her, and then threw her across the room. She stumbled backwards and her head hit a table. She fell limply to the ground. The man went over and bent down over her, checking her pulse. There must not have been one because he stood up, her locket in hand, and turned around. Maggie didn't get a good view of him because things were moving so fast, but, when he turned around, she saw that it was John Crosic.  
  
Maggie woke up in her bed, screaming. She looked around. Was it a dream, or some kind of premonition? Had John really killed Andrea? Maggie knew that she had to get these thoughts out of her mind or she was going to go insane from thinking about it.  
  
Chapter 4  
  
At Collinwood, the clock in the foyer chimed 5 a.m., and David was still pacing the drawing room. He hadn't been to bed all night. Thinking various thoughts about his business, and about what to do about the money problems. He had looked over the papers John had left with him about 100 times since Carolyn left, and he was still undecided. Carolyn's idea about a consulting company was one of the best he had heard.  
  
David sat down on the couch, and, finishing the last sip of his water—he had changed from liquor to water halfway through the night—leaned back on the couch, his eyes getting heavy. As soon as he closed his eyes, someone entered the room. "Have you been up all night darling?" David's wife said, entering the drawing room. "Yes, I have." "What for? Is something wrong?" "The same thing as yesterday, Angelique. Money problems," David said, his eyes still closed. "You shouldn't worry about it so much. You will worry your life away," Angelique said, going over to the bar and pouring herself a small glass of water. "That's what I told him last night. But did he listen to me? Noooo..." Carolyn said, entering the room. "Look, I don't need you two to advise me. I am capable of making decisions. I just like to think things through before I do them," David said, opening his eyes and leaning forward. "We are not trying to advise you on anything, darling. We just don't want you to fret over this problem to much. It's not good for you. Look at what it did to you father. He is only 68 years old, and he looks near 90. Do you want that to happen to you?" Angelique said, going over and sitting by David, taking his hand in hers. "My father had other things to stress him out," David said, look at Angelique and then at Carolyn. "Such as?" Carolyn asked him. "My mother, his second wife Cassandra, and all the weird things that happened here when I was a child," David said, getting up and going over to the fire. Angelique looked worried. "Yes, those did contribute, David, but most times your father was away on business," Angelique said, eager to change the subject from things that happened in the past. "Now David, I plead with you to drop this whole money issue. Just let someone else at the office deal with it. Don't let it consume your life. Go upstairs and lay down. You need some rest." "Yes, you're both right. I will go upstairs and lay down now," David said, setting his drink down and exiting the room. Angelique remained seated on the couch while Carolyn shut the drawing room doors and then took a seat in a chair. "You had better hope he never remembers that it was you who caused much of the things to happen when he was a child, Angelique," Carolyn said bitterly. "Carolyn, I haven't the faintest idea of what you're talking about," Angelique replied coolly. "Yes you do. You know I know that it was you who cause all those things to happen all those years ago. Why don't you acknowledge that?" Carolyn said. "You're right, I know you know it was me. I also know that you won't tell David about it. You want him to be happy, and you know he is now. You wouldn't mess that up for him," Angelique said confidently. "Do you believe that, Angelique? That I wouldn't mess his happiness up? I can tell you that you are wrong. If you do something that makes him unhappy, or that hurts any of us in anyway, I will tell him. You can believe that," Carolyn said. She got up and exited the drawing room. "Well, dear Carolyn, you will not tell David. You and I both know that. And, if you do, I will have to kill you," Angelique said quietly to herself.  
  
Maggie was in the kitchen at her cottage, making herself coffee. She had been unable to go back to sleep once she woke up from the horrible dream she had had. Walking across the kitchen and sitting down at the table, Maggie wondered if she would see John Crosic when she went to work today. She hoped he wouldn't come by, but somehow she knew he would, despite her hoping. Maggie went back into her bedroom to prepare herself for work. When she arrived, Debby was already cleaning behind the counter. After putting her things in her office, she joined Debby. "So? How did it go?" Debby asked, wiping out the sink. "How did what go?" Maggie asked, starting to take chairs down. "Your date with John," Debby said, eager to find out the details. "Oh, it went okay. Nothing special," Maggie said, not wanting to tell Debby about what had happened last night. "What did you do? Where did you go?" Debby asked, unsatisfied with her bosses answers. "We went to that new Italian place down the street, and afterwards we went back to his place for some coffee," Maggie said, continuing to put chairs on the floor. "And?" "And what? Nothing happened. I didn't stay there long. I drank a bit of my coffee and then I went home." "I hope you weren't rude to him. He's a nice guy." "Why should I be rude? How do you know he's a nice guy? You didn't go on a date with him did you?" "Oh! So something did happen! Tell me, what is it?" Maggie stopped what she was doing and looked at Debby, trying quickly to decide whether or not to tell her. Maggie went over and stood behind the counter with Debby. "Debby," Maggie whispered, "I found the necklace that belonged to Andrea Brown, the girl who was murdered two nights ago. I found it at his house. He said he found it when he got out of his cab when he first arrived in town, but I don't believe him." "What? Why don't you believe him? It could be true." "Because, that girl was killed in her home, not out on the street. And, when I got home, he was there. I mean, he wasn't waiting for me but he came a few minutes after I pulled up in my driveway. He came to return an earring I dropped." "Maggie, he was just being considerate. Why are you always so suspicious of everyone?" "No, I don't think he was being considerate. I think he just wanted to find out where I live." "So? What's wrong with that?" "Maybe I didn't want him to know where I live, Debby. What if he's a stalker?" "I highly doubt that Maggie. I swear, your mind wanders into some seriously psycho thoughts sometimes. Not everyone is out to get you." "I know that. Oh my god! Look, he's here. I've got to hide." Maggie dropped to the floor, hoping John Crosic hadn't seen her yet. She pretended to be picking something up when he came in. "Hello, is Maggie here?" he asked, walking up to the counter. "Um, I think she might be, ow," Debby started, but Maggie hit her in the leg. "Let me check the schedule," Debby said, pulling a piece of paper out of a drawer and pretending it was the schedule when in fact is was an order form. "No, she isn't on today. Sorry." Debby said. "Well, okay then, just tell her I am interested in going on another date with her sometime. Thank you." Crosic left. Maggie rises to her feet again. "Thanks for not telling him I am here." "You know Maggie, one of these days you are going to have to let go of Joe and find someone else. You may be letting the next love of your life walk out of your life." "I am willing to take that chance, especially if he is a murderer." Maggie watched Crosic's car pull away from the Inn, and then left from behind the counter. 


	2. Part Two

Chapter 5  
  
In the drawing room at Collinwood, Carolyn dialed the number to the police station. She waited while it rang. Then someone picked up. "Hello? May I speak with the sheriff please?" Carolyn said, look down at the floor. "This is Sheriff Windfield. How may I help you?" "Sheriff, this is Carolyn Stoddard. I was just wondering if you had heard anything about the disappearance of my brother Quentin." "No, I haven't. Ms. Stoddard, are you sure he just didn't decide to go away for a while? With all the things that he went through just before he left, it is possible he just wanted some time to be by himself." "Sheriff, he isn't crazy, despite what the town thinks." "I am not saying he is, Ms. Stoddard. Although you have to admit that all those ravings about someone or something having a conspiracy to kill him could have been just made up for attention. There is no secret that your mother disowned him when she died." "Sheriff, they were not ravings! He actually had proof, its just that people didn't want their perfect little lives messed up. And we both know why mother disowned him. You were close with her before she died, and I know she told you everything. When Quentin was younger, it was no secret he was a drunk. He used to go out every night and get wasted. I guess he thought it would be better that way, that he would be able to forget the worry of someone being out to get him." "Whatever you say Ms. Stoddard. As soon as I receive information about his whereabouts I will call you." "Thank you Sheriff." Carolyn hung up. How dare the sheriff talk about her brother like that. Just because he was close with her mother before she died gave him no right to talk like that. Carolyn knew his secret as well. He would never gotten elected as sheriff if her mother hadn't have influenced the judge to drop the murder charge against him. He was, in fact, one of the original suspects of the three murders five years earlier. Carolyn knew that he probably put the wrong man away for the murders, but there was nothing she could do about it. All Carolyn could do was to wait, and hope that, one day, Quentin might decide to return home, if he was still alive.  
  
Maggie Evans had spent the past three days trying to avoid John Crosic. Every time she saw him she made a mad dash into some hiding place she had only thought of seconds before. She just didn't trust him as much since she found Andrea Brown's necklace at his house. For all she knew, her gut feelings could be right and he could be a stalker. Then again, maybe they were wrong, and her feelings were just trying to keep her from a man she could grow to love.  
  
Maggie had called Debby earlier this morning and told her that she wasn't going to be in to work today, that she needed a day off. So, as soon as she put her face on, and chose suitable clothes, Maggie left her house. First she stopped by the newsstand by the Inn and picked up a paper. A headline that she didn't really want to see right now stared her back in the face- Another Local Girl Found Dead, In Home Last Night. Maggie could only imagine what had happened this time. She read the article on the front page and found out that this girls name was Leslie Warrington, and that she had been seen only a half hour before she was found dead. Apparently, she had went to the Blue Whale, and while there she dropped a credit card from her wallet. When an employee went to her home to return it, he found the door ajar, and found Ms. Warrington laying in her bath tub, dead. The cause was strangulation.  
  
Maggie couldn't believe there was another murder, and it had only been a matter of days since the last one. The article urged everyone to be home by 9 p.m. at the latest, but no curfew had been set.  
  
After a rousing day of shopping, Maggie returned home with too many bags to carry. She had to make two trips to the car and back to get all of the items she bought inside. Ranging from a new coat to shoes and new sweaters, Maggie unpacked each item individually, clipping the tags off and then putting them in a pile for the wash. Taking the pile of clothes intended for the wash and putting them in the laundry room, Maggie went back out into the living room, folded up the shopping bags, and grabbed her coat. She went over to the hall closet, opened the door, and placed the coat on a hanger and hung it up. She bent down to tuck the shopping bags into a box in the back corner, and she saw a white bag that she hadn't remembered being there earlier. When she had put the shopping bags in the box, she grabbed the white bag and shut the closet door. Sitting down on the couch, Maggie placed the bag in front of her on the floor and opened it up. She reached in and pulled out clothes. She recognized them as hers, but when she unfolded them, since they were all in bundles, Maggie let out a loud scream. She stared at the clothes in horror. Blood stains were spotted all over the purple shirt she had pulled out, as well as a pair of jeans that were also stained with blood. There was also a pair of latex gloves in the bag.  
  
Why were these clothes in a bag in Maggie's closet? Who could have put them here? John Crosic! He must be the murderer, and he—but wait, no, he wouldn't fit into these clothes so it had to be a woman. Debby? Could it be Debby? Had Maggie been wrong in thinking that she was her friend the whole time? The clothes would fit her, but would she do such a thing? Maggie didn't know who else it could be. It had to be Debby. Maggie didn't do it. She didn't even notice that these clothes were gone! Wait! She had put them in a bag of Good Will clothes! But had she delivered them?  
  
Maggie quickly got up off the couch and went back into the laundry room. She looked for a pink bag. There is was! Just down at the other end of the room next to the detergent and bleach! Maggie walked up to the bag and opened it. All the clothes were still there, except for the ones in the bag in the living room! Who was trying to pin the murder on Maggie? She didn't know, and didn't care. Maggie just knew that she had to report this.  
  
Going back out into the living room, Maggie picked up the receiver of her phone and dialed the police station. Rinnnnnggggg.. Rinnnnnnggggg. Rinnnnnnnngggggg. Rinnnn- Maggie slammed the receiver back down. NO! She couldn't report this! Then she would become a suspect in the murders and she didn't do it! She had to think of a way to get rid of the clothes. Sure, she knew it was wrong, but it was either that or take the chance of becoming a suspect in two murders she didn't commit. Maggie grabbed the bag of clothes and took them into her den. Throwing a few logs into the fire place and the putting the clothes on top of them, Maggie grabbed the lighter fluid. She squirted the fluid all over the clothes, and, grabbing the box of matches, she lit one and threw it into the fire place. The clothes caught fire immediately, and quickly began to burn. When the fire got lower, Maggie threw the paper bag the clothes had been in on top of it, burning that as well. Leaving that to burn, Maggie went into the kitchen and washed her lightly blood stained hands off, drying them on a dish towel.  
  
Feeling satisfied she had done all she could, Maggie went into the living room and sat down. Although still shaken up, she tried her best to calm herself even though it wasn't working. Maggie went into the kitchen. She opened the refrigerator and took out the gallon of milk. After pouring some into a glass and placing the milk jug back into the fridge, she put the glass of milk into the microwave and heated it up for 30 seconds. Taking it out, she took a few sips and went back into the living room. Stretching out and covering herself with the blanket hanging over the back of the couch, Maggie continued to sip the warm milk, in hopes of it putting her to sleep.  
  
Carolyn Stoddard was sitting in the drawing room of Collinwood reading a book when she heard something outside of the door. She got up and walked into the foyer, listening for the noise again. There was a loud thud, and it sounded like something hit the door. Carolyn creeped over, trying to be quiet as she figured it was a burglar. She grabbed a cane that belonged to her Uncle Roger off of the coat rack. She put her hand on the door knob, and, slowly raising the cane above her head, yanked the door open.  
  
Carolyn dropped the cane to the ground. "Oh my god!" she said, bending down to the seemingly lifeless body laying outside on the walk. She looked at the person, the man, lying on the ground. He looked up. "Quentin!" she yelled. She turned him over to lie on his back, and she saw that he hand was holding his stomach where blood was gushing out. "Carolyn, they got to me," he said lowly, before passing out.  
  
Chapter 6  
  
Carolyn is waiting in the waiting room of the hospital room. She had taken Quentin to the hospital herself because somehow she knew if she had of waited for an ambulance Quentin may have died. As it was, Quentin had to be rushed straight into surgery from the emergency room. He had lost an enormous amount of blood. He had s ruptured spleen, and whoever attacked him and nicked his liver. He had multiple stab wounds in the lower abdomen, as well as a wound in his back.  
  
The doctors had fixed him up as best they could before taking him into his own room. Carolyn had stayed with him, but she left to call David. He was on his way now. Angelique stayed home in case Roger needed assistance with something.  
  
When David arrived, Carolyn showed him into Quentin's room. "Carolyn, how did this happen?" David asked, looking at Quentin lying in the bed with bandages around his abdomen and a patch on his forehead. "I don't know. I was sitting in the drawing room and I heard someone outside. When I opened the door, he was lying there," Carolyn explained. She walked over and sat in a chair beside Quentin's bed. "Did he say anything?" "Yes, he said 'they got to me'." "Who's 'they'?" "I don't know. I suppose 'they' are the people who he says are after him. It's so weird to, because I just called the sheriff a few days ago, and now he turns up. The sheriff said that he hadn't found anything on Quentin." "Yes, but we both know how secretive the sheriff is, Carolyn. He could have been withholding information." "But what reason would he have for doing that?" "Well, if he were one of the people who were after Quentin then he would have a reason to. We won't know anything until Quentin wakes up. What did the doctors say?" "They said he is going to live, if that's what you mean. He doesn't have life threatening injuries, and they confirmed my though of not waiting for the ambulance. They told me if I had of waited he may have died from loss of blood. I got him here in time for a transfusion. The doctors said his blood count was the lowest they've seen in a while." "I guess it's a good thing you went with you gut feeling then," David said, walking over to the window and looking out. The sky had darkened in the short time he had been there, and it was starting drizzle. Low rumbles of thunder could be heard a few miles off. "Is there any way of knowing how long he will be out for?" "No, the doctors didn't say. I guess he will wake up when he wakes up." "Let us hope that he will wake up soon. Then we can get some information out of him." "I don't think he will want to answer questions as soon as he wakes up. He will probably be groggy." "Did the doctors say anything about memory loss?" "No. The doctor told me nothing about it."  
  
The next morning came. David and Carolyn had been waiting for Quentin to wake up all night long. He hadn't yet, and they had taken turns watching all night. David waited for Quentin to wake up while Carolyn slept and vice- versa. They both hoped it wouldn't be much longer before Quentin woke up, fearing that the coma may become permanent.  
  
At the Collinsport Inn, Maggie was entering. She did her daily morning routine of putting her things in her office and then going into the diner. She had called Debby and given her the day off, as she didn't want to seem nervous around her in case she was the murderer. Maggie put all the chairs down on the floor and turned the sign on the window over so that "Open" was facing out to the side walk. She went behind the counter and made the coffee before turning both coffee pots on. She took up a rag and wiped the counter off. After taking the pie platter off of the high tier of the counter, and taking the top off it, she rinsed it off in the sink. She went over to the refrigerator and opened it, taking out another pie. When she had closed the refrigerator, she took the pie over and set it on the counter. She unwrapped the tin foil around it and placed it on the pie platter. Putting the top back on, she put the platter back on the higher tier of the counter and threw the tin foil away. She heard the door open, and looked up with a smile that quickly faded. It was John Crosic.  
  
"Hello Maggie! I've had a rough time getting a hold of you the past few days. Been busy?" he said, sitting at a table. "Yes, I have. I had a mess of paperwork I had been putting off for a while and yesterday I went shopping. What can I get you?" "Coffee, please. Shopping? Buy anything good?" "A few new shirts and a coat," Maggie said, taking the coffee over to Crosic and setting it in front of him. "So, do you have any plans tonight?" Crosic asked, stirring a bit of sugar into his coffee. "No, why?" "I was just wondering if you would like to go out," he said, still stirring. Maggie's face scrunched up. "I'm....I'm sorry, I can't," she blurted out. "Why not?" "Oh....um...more paper work," Maggie lied. "I thought you said you weren't busy," Crosic said, a little annoyed. "Well, I just remembered the paper work," Maggie lied again. Crosic got up and walked over to the counter, placing both hands on the counter. "No, you didn't just remember about the paper work," Crosic said. "Yes, yes I di-" "No, you didn't. Look, if you don't want to go out with me, just tell me. It's not like I am going to stalk you down and kill you or anything," Crosic said. Maggie quickly looked down. "I know. You don't want to go out with me because of that necklace you found at my house, right? You think I murdered that girl, don't you?" Crosic walked over to his table and picked his coat up. He reached in a pocket and pulled out some money which he threw down on the table. "Look, if you don't want to go out with me, that's fine. I'll see you around," Crosic said, looking at Maggie. He began to walk out. Maggie put down the salt shaker she was filling. "John! Wait!" she yelled after him. He stopped without turning around. "Yes?" "You say you want to go out tonight?" "That's right." "Meet me at my house at 7, and I will be ready," Maggie said. Crosic smiled. He turned around. "Great! See you at 7!" Crosic left.  
  
Chapter 7  
  
"Hello doctor," Carolyn greeted Dr. Adams as he entered the room. "How is he?" the doctor asked her. "The same as the last time you left, doctor." "No change at all? He hasn't waken up yet?" "No."  
  
The doctor went over to Quentin's bed and examined him. He took his pulse and lifted his eyes lids to see if his pupils were responsive. After the exam, he turned to Carolyn. "I have already told you that the longer he is like this, the less likely it is for him to wake up." "Yes, you have doctor. It's only been a few days. There is still hope isn't there?" "Yes, there is still hope. Look, I'm not going to beat around the bush here Ms. Stoddard, I believe that once the seventh day has passed he won't wake up. His wounds weren't extensive, but he had to have a massive blood transfusion. If his body is unresponsive to the blood, he may never wake up." "Why would his body be unresponsive to the blood?" "Well, we are giving him medication to help his body accept the blood, but giving that much blood is like putting a new organ in." "I still have hope doctor. He will wake up." Carolyn walked over to the window and started to look out. The doctor looked at her and then left. The constant beeping of Quentin's heart monitor was getting to Carolyn. She had heard nothing but that for four days. She hadn't gone home or left the hall his room was on. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Carolyn turned around. The beeping had stopped. She rushed out into the hall. "Get the doctor! He's dying! Hurry!" Carolyn rushed back into the room. She couldn't do anything to save her brother. She couldn't just stay here and watch him die. The doctor rushed in. "Crash cart!" the doctor yelled. The nurse ran out into the hall and ran back in, pushing a crash cart in front of her. "Bag 'em," the doctor yelled. "Starting CPR!" The doctor started compression's on Quentin's chest. The nurse was standing behind his head. She had a mask over his mouth with a plastic clear blue bag over his mouth. She was pressing the bag every two seconds. "Get Dr. Griswald in here now!" Dr. Adams yelled. Soon after another male doctor came into the room. "Griswald, tube," Adams told the other doctor. Dr. Griswald went over to where the nurse was standing above Quentin's head. He took a light and shined it down Quentin's throat, inserting a tube. "Connect it," he told the nurse, and she quickly did so.  
  
"Charge to 200," Dr. Adams said. "CLEAR!" Dr. Adams yelled. He shocked Quentin. Nothing. "Flat line! Charge to 300!" "CLEAR!" Dr. Adams shocked him again. "We've got a heart beat." Dr. Adams threw the paddles back onto the cart. "Kidneys don't look good doctor," the nurse told him. "Put him as stage one on the waiting list." "The waiting list?" Carolyn finally broke in. "Yes, we're going to have to give Quentin a new kidney." "He can die from that right?" "Well there can be complications but-" "CAN HE DIE OR NOT!" "Yes, he can die. He is on the top of the waiting list. The next available kidney should be his." Dr. Adams turned to the nurse. "Monitor his vitals. Thank you Dr. Griswald." Dr. Adams turned back to Carolyn. "Quentin's going to be just fine. Don't you worry." "You're telling me not to worry when Quentin needs a kidney transplant?!?" "Don't get yourself worked up, Ms. Stoddard." "I'm not getting worked up," Carolyn said, putting her hand to her forehead and sitting down. "How soon will he get a kidney?" "I can't be sure. We'll let you know as soon as he does." Dr. Adams looked back over at Quentin and then at Carolyn. "You should go home. Get some rest. You've been here for four days straight. You need a break." "I can't. There's no one else to stay here with him. David is busy with the business and Angelique has to stay with Roger. I'll be fine. Thank you doctor." Dr. Adams looked disapproving but left the room, throwing his gloves in the bio-hazard bin on the way out.  
  
Carolyn got up and paced the room. She looked over at Quentin. Going over to his bedside and sitting in the chair that was there, she took his hand. "Quentin, you can't die on me. Just wait. You'll get your kidney soon, I know it. Just hold on. I know you can. When you wake up, you can explain all of this to me and David and I can take care of it. Don't worry." A tear ran down her cheek.  
  
Knock, knock, knock. Maggie Evans went up to the door in a light summer dress with a shawl around her shoulder. "Are you ready to go?" John Crosic asked, standing outside on the porch. "Yes, let me just grab my purse." Maggie went over and picked up her purse from the couch and walked back over to the door. After turning the light out and shutting the door, they were on their way for their second date.  
  
This time, instead of the Italian restaurant they went to on their first date, Maggie and John went to a seafood place called Drift Wood. The waiter seated them and handed them their menus. Maggie couldn't decide between the crab cake or the steamed lobster. John ordered salmon, and after he ordered and the waiter asked Maggie what she wanted, she ultimately decided to go with the lobster.  
  
Maggie and John talked about what they each had been doing since the last time they had seen each other. "Well, I had more business deals, and I actually helped someone turn an investment around. This guy had invested all his money into one business and the company went under, so I helped him redirect the money he had left to another company, and he made back triple the money he lost. So, anything interesting happen to you?"  
  
Maggie thought back. She remember finding the bloody clothes in her closet. Nothing had happened since then. She had actually forgotten about that night until just now. "Maggie? Is everything all right?" John asked her. "Yes, fine. Nothing really happened worth telling about. I would just bore you." "No you wouldn't. Really." 'Oh, great! Thanks for saying that. Now I am going to have to make something up to tell you,' Maggie thought. "Oh, well, in that case, um....... well, I did almost catch my kitchen on fire," Maggie lied, quickly trying to think of more to tell him. "How did you do that?" "Oh, I, stupid me, I spilt grease on the hot burner." Maggie watched his face. He seemed genuinely concerned, but should she believe him? Maybe he was just putting on a show to throw suspicions off him. "Are you okay?" "Yes, oh, yes, I'm fine. Thanks for asking." This was quite an awkward situation for Maggie. She remember hiding from John when he came into the diner to see her one day. She hoped he didn't know about it. "I saw you behind the counter that day," John said taking a sip of his coffee. 'Great! He does know. How are you gonna get yourself outta this one Maggie?' , she thought. "What are you talking about?" "That one day. It must have been a Tuesday, I think. I was walking down the sidewalk and I looked in the window and saw you talking to Debby. I believe you were serving a cup of coffee to some one." 'Yes! He doesn't know,' Maggie thought to herself. "Really? I didn't see you outside. Must of been because I was serving that customer."  
  
Soon after the waiter brought their food from the kitchen, and they both enjoyed a nice meal together. Once they had finished, John paid again and left a tip for the waiter. Going outside, John opened the passenger door for Maggie to get in, and then closed it after she had. Before John started the car, he turned to her. "So, where do you want to go from here?" "I don't know." "How about your place? For coffee?" John suggested. Maggie looked at him. 'Geez, isn't he forward?' she thought. "Sure," she said and John started the car.  
  
Once arriving at Maggie's cottage, John got out and opened the door for Maggie to get out. She thanked him and then went up to her door and unlocked it. She told him to make himself at home and she went into the kitchen to make the coffee. Once it had been prepared, and Maggie had turned the coffee pot on, she returned to the living room. That sat in silence, not really sure of what to say to each other. "Are you a painter?" John asked, looking around the room at all the paintings. He got up and studied one of them. "No. Why do you ask?" "These paintings, they all have 'Evans' scribbled at the bottom of them. "Oh. My father was a painter. These paintings are left over, ones that I never sold after his death." "I'm sorry. They are very good." "Thank you." Maggie answered. John went over to a painting that was leaning against the bay window. It was a painting of a lovely woman with golden brown hair. She had big green eyes, eyes of a cat John thought. She was very beautiful. "Would you sell any of them now?" "I suppose I could. Which one are you interested in?" "This one, right here," John said, pointing at the painting he was studying. Maggie got up from the chair she was sitting in and walked over to where John was standing. "Oh, I'm sorry, I can't sell that to you." Maggie said, looking at the picture and smiling. "Why?" "Because that is a painting of my mother. My father painted it just before she got ill and died. It's the only real picture I have left of her." "Well, I wouldn't ask you to sell it then." John walked over and looked at some other paintings. He saw one of a boat flowing out in clear blue waters, with the oars still in it. "What about this one?" "Yes, I will sell you that one." Maggie said. "What is your asking price?" John asked, willing to pay anything for the painting. "Well, I guess fifty sounds okay," Maggie said. She turned around. "That's the coffee. Excuse me." Maggie left the room and went into the kitchen. She returned with a tray on which sat the coffee pot, two cups, and some cubes of sugar in a bowl. John went over and sat down on the couch, taking a cup and pouring himself and Maggie some coffee. He put two sugar cubes in his coffee, while Maggie only put one. John handed a piece of paper to Maggie. "John, this is two hundred dollars! I only asked for fifty." "I thought the painting was much to good for that amount, so I decided two hundred was more reasonable," John said, taking a sip of his coffee. "John, are you sure?" Maggie asked, surprised at his generosity. "Maggie, if I wasn't sure, I wouldn't have written the check." "Would you like me to wrap the painting up for you?" Maggie asked, folding the check in half. "If it wouldn't be to much trouble. Thank you." "No trouble at all." Maggie got up from her seat and went down the hall. She opened the closet and reached up on the top shelf. She grabbed an old twin bed sheet. She then went into the kitchen and opened a junk drawer, grabbing scissors and twine out of it before closing it. Going back into the living room, she laid the sheet out on the floor and then laid the painting face down on the sheet. Wrapping the sheet around the painting, she turned and got the twine from beside her. Measuring two arm lengths and then cutting, Maggie then folded the twine in half and cut it at the middle. She wrapped one half vertically and the other horizontally around the painting before tying the two halves together in the back. Picking the painting up, she took it over and leaned it against the wall beside the door. Maggie then returned to her seat beside John. "Thank you." "Your welcome. There is a nice framing store down the street from the diner, just an FYI. I am sure you could find a frame there." "Well, I will have to check it out after I leave the diner tomorrow. Do you know what time they open?" "I think about 8 a.m." Maggie picked up her coffee and took a sip. "Good, that will be just right. I'll come into the diner, and then go to the frame store before my appointment at nine." John put down his coffee. "Thanks for the coffee Maggie. I'll see you tomorrow," he said, getting up and walking over to the door. Maggie put her coffee down and walked over to the door to. John put his coat on and picked up his painting. "Well, goodnight," he said. Maggie gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Goodnight," she said to him, opening the door and then shutting it when he was out.  
  
The clock in the foyer of Collinwood chimed 10 p.m. David Collins paced the drawing room floor, drink in hand. He took a sip before setting it down on the table. Carolyn had come home earlier to tell everyone what was going on with Quentin, and to pick up a few things. She was up in her room packing a small bag of clothes so she could go back to the hospital later.  
  
David walked out of the drawing room and into the kitchen. "Angelique, dear, would you mind going upstairs and telling Carolyn and father that I would like to speak to them in the drawing room? Thank you." David left the kitchen and returned to the drawing room. Minutes later, Angelique came into the drawing room followed by Carolyn and Roger, who was lugging his oxygen tank behind him. "This blasted thing. I just want to throw it at the wall," Roger said entering the drawing room. "Uncle Roger, you know you couldn't if you wanted to. You will have to get used to it," Carolyn told him in a tone that flatly said 'stop your complaining'. "I don't need you to tell me that kitten," Roger said, sitting down on the couch. Carolyn took a seat in a chair across from the couch. "I'll just leave you three to talk," Angelique said, turning to exit the room. "No, please stay dear. I want you to hear this to." David waited for her to come back in and sit down. He hesitated for a few minutes before telling them what they were here for. "I have called this meeting because of the ever increasing problem with the family money," David started, taking a swig. "As you all know, the money is running out and I have very few choices in the matter," David took a sip after saying this part. "So, for that reason, and my not wanting to unintentionally waste the money," David paused, "I have decided to......" "Spit it out son!" Roger said, growing impatient. "I have decided to close the business." David downed the whole glass.  
  
Chapter 8  
  
"WHAT!" Roger shrieked, jumping like the old man he was off the couch. "YOU CAN'T' DO THAT!!! I WORKED FOR YEARS TO BUILD THAT COMPANY TO WHAT IT WAS!!!!!" "Carolyn, Angelique, could you leave us?" "Certainly, dear. I'll be in our room," Angelique said, leaving the room. "Yes. I want to get back to the hospital." Carolyn walked out into the foyer, put her coat on and picking up her suitcase, left.  
  
"Now father, I know you feel strongly about the company, but it is the only thing I can do." "IT CAN'T BE! LET ME LOOK OVER THE PAPERS! I WILL SAVE THE COMPANY!" Roger screamed, huffing and puffing. "Oh father, calm down. You're going to give yourself a heart attack." David went over to Roger and lifted his oxygen mask to his face. "There is no need for you to look over the papers. I have done it many times before making my decision. It is the only way to ensure that we will have money forever." "WELL! YOU'VE MISSED SOMETHING!" Roger exclaimed from behind his oxygen mask. Heaving air into and out of his lungs, Roger lowered the mask. "Son, I know you love the company as much as I do, and you are as brilliant a business man as I," Roger paused to take a gasp of the pure air, "but I won't allow you to shut the company down!" "You are not in charge anymore father, and while I appreciate your input, I cannot listen to it this time." David sat down on the couch. "You don't trust me! That's it.......isn't it? You don't trust me because," Roger stopped for a breath of the oxygen once more, "because I advised you to invest in that company that caused this mess." "No, father. It's not that I don't trust you. It's just......it's just that I only had a few choices, and the majority of them involved giving up more money than what I was willing to. I won't sit here and argue with you. The decision is final." "But what about the Swiss accounts?" "I've cleaned them out. I have put all of our money into one account. In about a month, I will reopen a Swiss account. The interest rates have dropped and are expected to rise again by that time." "You know I don't like this," Roger said, still breathing from his mask. "I know father, but you're going to have to accept it." David left his father sitting in the drawing room and headed up the stairs.  
  
Maggie lied in bed, thinking of the nights events. John was very pleasant tonight, she thought to herself. She enjoyed her time with him and when he left, she felt sorry to see him go. Her mind filled with happy thoughts, she drifted off to sleep.  
  
"Do you take this man to be your lawful wedded husband? To have and told hold. In sickness and in health, for richer or poorer, as long as you both shall live?" "I do." Maggie smiled as she took her vows. "And do you take this woman to be your lawful wedded wife? To have and told hold. In sickness and in health, for richer or poorer, as long as you both shall live?" "I do." John smiled as he took his vows as well. "The rings please," the Reverend said. Maggie had had reservations about using this man for her wedding. He reminded her of an evil man she had met once. A man by the name of Trask. The resemblance was striking. "Repeat after me, John. With this ring, I thee wed." "With this ring, I thee wed," John repeated. After placing the rings on each others fingers, they both turned towards the priest. "Join hands." The reverend said. Maggie looked down and put her hand in his. "NOOOOO!!!!! NOOOOOOO!!!!!!!" Maggie screamed. She looked in horror at Johns hands, his red hands. She then looked at hers. Her red hands. "NOOO!!!! It wasn't me! It wasn't me I swear! I just found the clothes in my closet! The bloody clothes in my closet!!!" Maggie frantically tried to wipe the blood off on her wedding gown. She turned and ran down the aisle and came to a screeching stop at the doors. "You didn't kill me? Stop lying! You did! Stop lying!" Andrea Browns bloody corpse stood in the door way. She had bruises all over her face and her clothes were tattered and torn. Blood was running down her cheek out of her eyes, and from a cut on her neck. "STOP LYING!" the ghost shrieked. "Yes, do stop lying. Everyone knows you killed us both, Maggie Evans. YOU KILLED US BOTH, MAGGIE EVANS!" Leslie Warrington, the second girl murdered stepped into the door. She held up her hands. The ring finger was missing from her left hand, and her shirt and pants were bloody. A great patch of hair was missing from her head, and her nose was severely bent out of shape. Blood was dripping from her mouth. "I didn't kill either of you! I swear! I SWEAR I KILLED NO ONE! SOME ONE IS TRYING TO FRAME ME! PLEASE BELIEVE ME!" Maggie yelled. Both women, hands outstretched, started walking towards her. Maggie started backing up, and quickly. They chased her all the way to the stage, where John was standing. She bumped into the reverend and knocked him over and fell down herself. The women bent down. Andrea grabbed her throat, and Leslie grabbed her by the shoulders. Andrea started choking her and Leslie began to violently shake her. Both the reverend and John started laughing hysterically. Maggie tried to yell, but she could only mouth 'Help me!'  
  
"AHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" "Maggie, Maggie, calm down! It was only a dream!" Maggie opened her eyes to see Debby sitting on her bed. She had her hands on Maggie's shoulders, apparently shaking her to wake her up. Maggie hand her hands around her own throat, just as she had in the dream, trying to save herself. "Debby! What are you doing here?!?!" "I came by to slip a note under your door to tell you I was going on vacation with my boyfriend! We're eloping! Can you believe it?!?!" Debby told her boss, excitedly. "I tried calling, but you have no answering machine. I was going to slip the note into your screen door, but then I heard you screaming, no, shrieking was more like it. I used my credit card to get in through your French doors. That must've been some dream." "It was. It was horrible! Dead people chasing after me at my wedding, and blood on my hands!" "You were screaming that you didn't kill them and that you found bloody clothes in your closet. What was that about?" "Ooh...that was just uh.......another thing in the dream." Maggie lied. She tried to sit up, but was still shaking. "Would you like me to stay here with you?" "No, no. I'll be find. I just have to clam down." "Are you sure?" "Yes. Please go. Congratulations. Have fun. Call me in a few days." "I can stay if you want me to. It's no trouble, really. Our flight doesn't leave until 8 a.m." "No, no. Please. Just go. I'll be fine, I promise." "Okay, but I'm calling you tomorrow." "Have fun," Maggie faked a smile. Debby went over and closed the French doors that she came in through, and went out of Maggie's room. Moments later, Maggie heard the door close.  
  
Maggie sat in bed for a few minutes and tried to calm herself down. She needed someone to be with her now. John! She would call John! Maggie reached over to her bedside table and picked up the receiver of the phone. "7830," Maggie said aloud as she dialed. The phone ringed once, twice. Maggie hung the phone up. She realized that she couldn't call John. What would he think of her if she told him her dream? Or, worse yet, what if he was the killer and he felt that she knew to much? Maggie dreaded the thoughts she was thinking now. She had had such a good time with John tonight, how could she go on thinking that he was the murderer?  
  
Maggie got up and walked out of her room and into the kitchen. She reached up to a cabinet, opened it, and took out a bottle. She twisted the bottle open and then dropped it, spilling the pills all over the floor. She bent down and picked one up. Putting it in her mouth, she went over to the sink and filled a glass with water. Drinking the water to wash down the pill, she put the glass down and went back into her room. In a few minutes, she was asleep.  
  
At the hospital, Carolyn was entering Quentin's room. She put her suitcase down beside a cot that she had asked the doctors to set up in Quentin's room. She sat down on the cot and opened her suitcase. She took out a brush and started brushing her hair. It was early in the morning before she finally laid down for some rest.  
  
Carolyn woke with a start. The doctors had come in and were unhooking Quentin from the machines. "What happened? What's going on?" Carolyn asked, frantically. She got up and quickly walked over. "Everything's fine Ms. Stoddard. We're just taking Quentin up to the OR for his surgery. We've found a kidney for him!" "That's wonderful! How long will it take?" "Not long at all. We'll be back before you know it." Dr. Adams got at the head end of the bed and started pushing Quentin out of the room.  
  
Carolyn was excited. She couldn't believe they had found a kidney so fast. She went over to where Quentin's bed once had been and picked up the phone on a table. She dialed Collinwood. The phone rang three times before someone picked up. "Hello, this is Carolyn." "Hello Carolyn, how is Quentin?" came Angelique's voice from the other end. "He's just gone into surgery. They've found a kidney for him. I'll call you back when he gets out." "That's good news. I'll tell David and Roger. Goodbye." Angelique hung up. Carolyn did as well.  
  
Rinnnnnngggggggg. Riiiiinnnnngggggg. Riiinnnnnggggggg. Riiinnnngggggggg. Riiiinnnnnggggg. Riiiiinnnnggggg. Maggie groggily opened her eyes. She reached out a hand to her night stand and felt around for the phone. She picked it up. "Hel...hello?" "Maggie, are you all right?" "Who, who is this?" Maggie rubbed her eyes. "It's John. I'm at the Inn. I expected to see you here this morning." "John, I will be there, but not until 7," Maggie answered stretching her legs and digging her head into her pillow. "Maggie, dear, it's 9." "What?!?!" Maggie shot straight up. "Thank you, John. I be there in a jiff." Maggie hung up. She started racing around her house, trying to get ready for work. By 9:30 she was leaving the house.  
  
Arriving at the Inn, she went into the diner and began to open up. John was sitting at a table. "I was wondering what was wrong with you, Maggie. It's not like you to be this late." "I know. I just didn't sleep well last night so I took a sleeping pill," Maggie said, making some coffee. "I didn't mean to over sleep." "Well, we all do it now and then. I went to the framing shop earlier and bought a very nice silver frame for the painting." "That's good." Maggie poured herself a cup of coffee and downed it in one gulp. Then she poured another and drank half of it before starting to rush around behind the counter. "Geez, slow down why don't ya," John said. "I can't. I've got to wake up. Do you want anything?" "No, no. I'm fine, thanks. Did you hear about the murder?" "There was another one?" Maggie asked, with much interest. "Yes, someone by the name of....hold on it'll come to me......" "Kimberly Kasslehoffan." Maggie realized what had just happened. She hadn't read a news paper this morning. How did she know who it was? How? "Yes, that's it ,but how did you know?" "I...I must've seen it on a newspaper when I came in this morning." Maggie looked at the ground and pretended to bend down and pick something up so John wouldn't notice she was lying. "I cannot believe that they still haven't caught that evil person who is doing all of this," John said, brushing a bit of hair out of his face. "I know. You would think that the police would have found him by now," Maggie said, not looking up from the counter. "Unless, unless the person is a professional." "What do you mean?" "I mean that he's done this before. That's why they haven't caught him. No clues have been left behind, and no DNA evidence has been found in any of the houses or on any of the bodies. I think this guy has been doing it for a while now." "How long he has been doing it doesn't really matter does it? All that matter is that the police catch that bastard." "I agree. Well, I'll be off. I have another appointment at 10." "I thought you said you had one at 9." "I did, but she canceled." John left. Maggie continued to get things together. She went over to the window and flipped the sign over to show that the diner was now open.  
  
At Collinwood, David was sitting at his desk in the study. He was going over the business papers, hoping to see anything that might help him to find a way to keep the business open. There was nothing so far. Everything he thought of and double checked, didn't work out in the end. He wanted to start q new company but he new that he ran the risk of loosing all the money his ancestors had worked for over the many years. There was a knock at the door. "Come in," David said, throwing the piece of paper his was looking at onto the desk.  
  
"Are you still looking over the papers from the company?" Angelique asked her husband, walking into the room. "No. I've just finished." "Only on my account. Am I right?" "No. I really have finished. I have checked and double checked the numbers and the ideas I've had to fix things and they all would have a great chance of my loosing the fortune." "I really wish you wouldn't fret over these issues. You have made your decision. Stand by it. If you don't, no one else will. And you know I support whatever decision you make." "I know. I just can't stop thinking about all the employees. What will they do?" "You leave that to them. It's not your problem to think about, it's theirs." "Isn't that insensitive?" "No. It's not. Whether or not they get work is THEIR problem, not yours. You have enough to worry about as it is. You don't need to be worrying about them. They will survive. There are other shipping companies, you know." "I know. I just don't want to tell them all that I will be closing the business. What reason would I give them for it?" "Tell them the truth. You don't want to waste anymore money in the business because it is going to fail anyway." "I can't say that." "Why not? It's the truth." "Because. I don't want the whole town to know that the Collins family has money issues." "Once again, family pride and the family name get in the way," Angelique said, taking a sit in a chair on the opposite side of the desk. "I'll think of something to tell them." "David, dear, I wonder if you would be willing to do something." "What?" "Come away with me. Lets leave here and go away. At least for a week, maybe a few days even. Anything to get away from the troubles we have here." "They would just be waiting for us when we get back." "That doesn't matter. We could forget all about them while we are gone." "But where would we go?" "To an island. Some tropical island where it is warm and sunny." "There are so many." "So!? We could travel them all!" "That would take forever." "If you don't want to go, why don't you just come out and say so!" Angelique shouted, getting frustrated at David's short and negative answers. "Honey, it's not that I don't want to go.." "Yes it is. Well, that's just fine. If you want to stay here and wallow in your sorrows then you do that, but I am leaving!" Angelique rose from her chair and stormed out of the room. David got up and ran down the hall after her. "Angelique, you know I want to go. I just don't feel right leaving father here by himself." "Carolyn will be here." "No she won't, she is staying at the hospital." "We could get someone to come and stay with him." "Like who?" "Maggie Evans. She doesn't have much to do these days. I am sure she will be more than happy to come up here and stay with your father. "I'll tell you what. If you can convince Maggie to come up here and look after father, I we can go on the trip." "Oh David! She will come up here, I know it!" Angelique leaned in and kissed David and then ran off down the hall to call Maggie. 


	3. Part Three

Chapter 9  
  
Maggie searched through her closet for a pair of jeans. "I know I just saw those suckers," she said to herself. She couldn't find them so she went to the other side of her room and opened the dresser drawer with her long pants in them. Not there either. "Well, only one other place they could be," Maggie whispered as she walked out of her bedroom. She went into the laundry room and looked in the clothes hamper. Nope. Then she looked in the dryer. She reached in and pulled out a sock. "Where on earth did those jeans get to?" she asked herself. Going into the den to get her purse, Maggie glanced at the fire place.  
  
A rush of memories hit her. She now remembered where those jeans where. She hadn't missed them since she disposed of them herself. Those jeans were in the bag of clothes that had blood all over them, and Maggie remembered burning them in the fire place.  
  
Maggie bent down and picked up her purse. She went into her room and zipped up her suitcase and left the room, turning the light out. She went up to the door and grabbing her keys off the hook, she turned the light out exited the house.  
  
Knock, knock, knock. Angelique rose from the couch in the drawing room and went out into the foyer. She passed a few suitcases sitting on the floor and went up to the door. She opened it. "Hello Maggie. I can't thank you enough for coming on such short notice." Angelique stepped aside and let Maggie walk in. "It's no problem. Debby just got back from her vacation and wedding so I don't have to work the counter everyday now." Maggie set her suitcase down. "Which room will I be staying in?" "I had Megan prepare the room across the hall from Rogers for you. She will show you where it is. Come into the drawing room and sit down." Angelique walked into the drawing room and sat down. Maggie followed. "I thought I would warn you Maggie, Roger was at all thrilled about having someone to watch over him like a child. I just want to apologize in advance for anything he might say or do. If he gives you a hard time just ignore him and he will get over it." "Thanks for the warning, but I don't think I'll have a problem with him. I'll just give him some business magazines I brought with me to keep him busy." "He'll love that." Angelique looked over to the doorway just as David entered. "Oh Maggie! Here already! Thank you for coming. I hope father won't give you to much trouble." "Yes, Angelique was just telling me that he may be problematic, but as I told her, I made sure to bring a few business magazines for him to read." "Yes, she was. Well, I hate to run so soon but our plane leaves shortly and if we don't hurry we may miss it." "Of course, I don't mean to tie you up. Have a good time!" Maggie saw David and Angelique out into the foyer and then out the door.  
  
Maggie returned to the drawing room and sat down on the couch. Soon after, Roger entered. "Well, I see you've come. I didn't really believe David or Angelique when they said they were going away. This is such a horrid time to decide they want a vacation given the situation with the business!" Roger huffed, coming in and sitting down. "I'm glad to see you're well," Maggie answered Roger. "Are you really?" "I wouldn't have said so if I wasn't. I've brought you something," Maggie said, opening her suitcase and then handing the magazines to Roger. "I suppose these are to keep me busy, are they?" "I figured that you would probably need something to do with yourself." "Yes, you're right, I do need something to do." Roger opened one of the magazines and began to search through it for an article he could read. "I just cannot understand why they think I needed a baby-sitter. The servants are in the house, are they not? I would be fine with them here." Roger continued to flip the pages of the magazine he was looking at. "I would have done the same thing had you been my father. Now stop complaining! You should be touched that your son and daughter-in-law love you enough to think of you when they go away. I am going to go up to my room. If you need anything, let me know." Maggie left the room and headed upstairs.  
  
  
  
Carolyn left Quentin's hospital room and went out into the hall with the doctor. "You already know that his surgery went wonderfully, and I expect him to make a full recovery," Dr. Adams told her. "I feel a 'but' coming soon." "But, I also know you were worried about memory loss, and I can't guarantee that he will have his memory when he wakes up. He may not know who he is, much less you. I just wanted you to be prepared." "Thank you." Carolyn re-entered Quentins room and sat down in the chair to do yet more waiting.  
  
Hours went by and Carolyn sat in the chair beside her brothers bed and willed him to wake up. Talking to him, telling him she loved him and that when he woke up he would tell her everything, that there would be no memory loss at all. Finally, a breakthrough came.  
  
Quentin began to stir. "No! NO! You won't get me! Get away you bastards!" Quentin started yelling. He sat up so fast that he tore his IV out and he started to get out of the bed. "Quentin! Wait! Where are you going? You have to stay here!" "No, no! I have to go! They'll get me! They're everywhere!" Quentin started to pluck off the heart monitor wires. Dr. Adams rushed in. "Keep him away from me! Don't let him come near me! He's one of them! I know it! Everyone is! Everyone is trying to kill me! No! No! I won't let you do it! No!" Quentin punched Dr. Adams arm and knocked the needle out of it. Dr. Adams bent down to pick it up and Quentin hit him over the head and rushed out the door.  
  
Dr. Adams lifted himself off the floor and ran out into the hall after Quentin. Down the hall and into the elevator is where Dr. Adams went. Reaching the second floor, he let the door open and then looked out into the hall. Nothing. The doors closed again and the doctor went to the first floor. The doors opened and Quentin was laying on the floor. A few seconds someone rushed up with a gurney and the man and Dr. Adams put Quentin on it. "Thank you Rob, he's my patient, I'll take it from here." Dr. Adams wheeled the gurney into the elevator and took Quentin back up to the third floor and into his room.  
  
"Doctor, what happened?" Carolyn asked as Dr. Adams hooked the monitors back up to Quentin and a nurse reinserted his IV. "Just a bit of dementia, but it seemed to me that he remembered what happened to him. All those ravings. I am amazed he made it to the first floor. He must've had a lot of strength." "Is that unusual?" "He just came out of surgery yesterday, he shouldn't even want to do something like that." "Is he going to remember any of this? Or anything that happened to him when he wakes up again?" "It's hard to say. It seemed he remembered it today, but tomorrow is a different story."  
  
When the doctor and nurse were finished with Quentin they left the room. Carolyn retook the position in the chair beside Quentin's bed, and started once again wishing for him to wake up, and this time to not be spaced out.  
  
A few hours of waiting brought another development. As Carolyn was sitting and waiting with her head laid down on Quentin's bed, she heard something crash. She looked up to see Quentin looking over the side of the bed. "Damn," he muttered to himself. "QUENTIN! You're awake!" Carolyn screamed, hugging her brother. "Have been for quite some time. It's you who have been asleep." "Do you remember anything?" "Yes, I remember everything. Everything that happened to me." "Well?" "Well what? You mean you want to know?" "Duh! Of course I want to know! I want to help." "Okay. If you want to know I shall tell you. When I left Collinwood, I first went to the south. To Georgia. While there, I bought a house and made a name for myself. About a year after I was living there, weird things started to happen. I felt like I was at Collinwood again. People started mysteriously dying, and there was a frightening pattern to it. Every night that I would go to a bar, someone would die. And they were all killed at the same time – 10 p.m. Someone connected the pattern to my going to the bar and I became a suspect in the murders. But I didn't do them. I was confined to the small town that I was living in. People distanced themselves from me. Hardly anyone but the police would talk to me. I lived alone in that house. I am not really sure what happened to me, but I started to go out of my mind. The police really started suspecting me then." "What did you do?" "I just tried to keep my mind off that. I thought about Collinwood and what was going on there. I tried to stop drinking but I couldn't. Eventually I drank up all the liquor in the house. Once I had done that, I started seeing things." "What sort of things?" "I don't really know. I guess they were hallucinations. Every now and then I would see someone peek into a window or see them walking around in the house. I could tell that they weren't normal people because whenever I tried to chase after them or talk to them they would disappear. I thought maybe it was the ghosts of the house I had bought since the house is very old. I went to the library, a rare feat for me, and researched a bit into the houses past but turned up nothing. "For a while I didn't see them again. But, after a few weeks had gone by, I saw one walking around in my house. I walked after it, and when it turned around, it had the most hideous mask on that I had ever seen. There were no eyes, and when I looked through the eye holes, I saw nothing. The mouth was in a wicked sneering position. I couldn't understand it. I tried to touch the thing, but when I did it disappeared. "From that point on the mask haunted my dreams. I went to the library again, and this time, like the last, I found nothing. I went to see if there was any kind of information on the mask but there wasn't. I kept seeing them over and over and over. Then things got worse." "How so?" "For starters those things kept coming back, and, I started getting the feeling that I was being watched, and it was everyday to. I decided to leave that place, but before I did I went to see the sheriff. I asked him if I had been cleared of the charges against me and he said no. So, I couldn't leave until I was. When I did leave, I still wasn't cleared of the charges but I didn't care because I just wanted to get away. So, I got on a train to travel back up here. When I got off the train I went to stay at a hotel in New York. From that point on, I don't remember anything. I just remember being attacked, I think by one of those things I was seeing at my house in Georgia, and then seeing you just before I passed out at Collinwood. I don't know what I did in New York and I don't know how I got back here."  
  
Carolyn paused and let it all sink in before speaking. "It is all very strange. You didn't arrive with any luggage, and all you said was "they got to me", before you passed out. I guess that whoever 'they' are, they must have captured you or something." "I only know one thing and that is that I have to find out who these people are and what they want of me. They must really need me for something if they followed me all the way back up here." "Either that, or they really want you dead."  
  
Chapter 10  
  
A few days went by. The doctors determined that Quentin was ready to go home, but they told both him and Carolyn that he needed to take it easy for at least a few more days. Maggie and Roger had gotten along famously despite the warnings that Angelique had given him. Angelique and David had been gone for 4 days now, and no one had heard from them. Maggie wondered what they were doing. She hoped they were having a good time and that David had taken his mind away from the troubles at Collinwood.  
  
Carolyn and Quentin returned to Collinwood, and Carolyn told Maggie that she could go back home if she wanted to but Maggie declined. She told Carolyn that she wanted to stay and help out if she could. Maggie had really fallen in love with Collinwood all over again. She had forgotten how enormous the house was and how luxurious. She spent most of her time wandering the house and getting familiar with it once again. Exploring the east and west wings, Maggie found a lot of dust and cob webs. She loved the eloquent antique furniture that had sat in the wings unused for years. Many of the rooms looked like someone had just left. Books left open on desks and beds unmade. Maybe in the times these wings were used the servants weren't very good, Maggie thought.  
  
She had found a book in a room in the east wing that she had become quite involved in during her stay at Collinwood. It was about a girl who moves away from her home town. The town that she moves into has weird people and traditions. Eventually she gets sucked into some sort of twisted murderous plan with the man she had fallen in love with. Maggie stayed up late at night reading the book. She flipped through page after page of the book until she had only a few pages left.  
  
As dawn came over Collinwood, Quentin Collins paced his room. He was trying desperately to remember what had brought him back to Collinwood and how he arrived there. He remembered the doctor telling him to take it easy, which WAS easy for the doctor to say since HE wasn't missing parts of his memory. Quentin felt 100% better the day after he came home, and was ready to get back to normal life.  
  
As he paced his room, Quentin looked at himself in the mirror. He was paler that usual and his hair was messed up. He hadn't slept since he returned home. He just paced back and forth from one side to the next of his room, racking his brain for anything that might trigger a memory. At some points he would sit in the chair beside the gramophone that had been passed down to him from his father, and from his fathers father, and stare at the bottle of brandy that was sitting on the table in the middle of the room, beside a glass. He had a great urge to pick up the bottle and start pouring. He stared into the bottle of brown liquor and watched the candlelight reflect in the glass.  
  
There was one time that Quentin actually poured a drink for himself. It was the night he had gotten home. Carolyn helped him up to his room and told him that if he needed anything to use the in-house phone line to call her room and ask her. He thanked her and once she had left, he locked the door. He walked over to the wardrobe and opened it up to reveal all the clothes from years before that he hadn't taken when he left. He took some of them out and dusted them off, holding them up in front of him and looking in the mirror to see how he looked. Memories rushed into his mind of experiences he had had in each outfit. He remembered the many anonymous women he had slept with in each outfit. He remembered falling for one of those women while on a date with her in another outfit. How he missed her. He dismissed the though as soon as it came to him. "No! She's dead! She can never come back!" Quentin said to himself as he stuffed the suit back into the wardrobe and slammed the door.  
  
Quentin walked over to his roll top desk and sat down in the chair in front of it. He lifted the lid of the desk and saw his former companion sitting there. The bottle of brandy was sitting on the desk top staring back out at him, calling his name. Quentin picked the bottle up and walked over to the middle of the room where he sat the bottle down on the table. He went over to the mantle and picked the dusty glass up. He blew into it and a cloud of dust rose out. Taking a loose end of his shirt in his hand, Quentin wiped the rest of the dust out of the glass. He set the glass down on the table and lifted the lid out of the bottle of brandy. Picking the bottle up and turning it sideways, Quentin filled the glass halfway before putting the bottle back down and placing the lid in it.  
  
Quentin picked the glass up and swiped it back and forth under his nose, taking in the strong fumes of the drink. He held the glass out in front of him. The fire in the fireplace danced in the glass. He once again swiped the glass back and forth under his nose. He remembered how he used to get such a high out of drinking until he dropped. It would be so easy now to just raise the glass to his lips and gulp down glass after glass of this liquid gold and make his troubles disappear. Quentin placed the glass back down on the table and began to pace the room.  
  
He couldn't do it, he just couldn't! Quentin knew it! But it was so easy to lift the glass and down the brandy. So easy to make his troubles and worries disappear, and in a matter of minutes to. He had to do it! He had to! Quentin was never good at dealing with life, and life certainly had not dealt him and easy hand to deal with! This was his one escape. This IS his one escape. Who would know? He would. Who would stop him? No one could.  
  
Quentin picked the glass back up. Taking one last whiff of the magic juice, Quentin raised the glass to his lips. The brandy licked at his lips, desperate to find an entrance to Quentin's mouth. Quentin parted his lips and tipped the glass upwards, allowing the entire glass of brandy slip into his mouth. He held it there, trying enormously hard not to swallow, and not to let the brandy slip down his throat as it had so many times before. He felt a few drops slip down his throat, burning lines into his esophagus as it went down. At the exact moment, Quentin turned and spit the brandy out into the fire, causing it to warm up. He slammed the glass back onto the table so hard it is a wonder that it didn't break.  
  
Quentin ran over to a corner in his room and hunched down in hit. He put his head between his knees. "It was only a few drops," Quentin said to himself. "Yea, a few drops that will lead to a few kegs," he continued. He sat in the corner for a few minutes before he lifted his head and looked at the bottle of brandy on the table beside the glass. He couldn't touch it again. He knew that.  
  
Flash forward. Quentin, one day later, sitting in the chair beside his father's gramophone, staring into the bottle of brandy which was sitting in the exact same place he had left it a day before. He wasn't going to go through the dance routine he had gone through the day before with the glass of brandy. He was either going to drink it, or leave it in the bottle. Decisions, decisions. What would he do? He wanted a full glass, the whole bottle, so badly. But at the same time he knew that if he took one more sip he would be hooked again. He went through rehab just for this purpose, so he could make the right decision and easily. Then why was it so hard?  
  
Quentin rose from his seated position. He walked over to the table and picked up the brandy bottle. Just as he did yesterday, he filled the glass halfway with the brandy and then put the bottle back down. He picked the glass up. He was going to do it this time. He was going to drink that glass. He had wasted his time in rehab. Nobody would ever be able to get him to kick this habit no matter how hard they tried. He lifted the glass to his open and ready mouth. Half of what was in the glass slipped into his mouth. He tried to force himself to swallow it. The brandy just wouldn't go down his throat. He wanted to swallow it but he was stopping himself.  
  
Quentin gargled the brandy in his throat. It felt good swishing around inside his mouth. He finally swallowed the brandy. Drinking the other half in the glass, Quentin poured a whole glass full. He poured the brandy into his mouth out of the glass and swallowed. Before long, Quentin started drinking straight from the bottle. In about fifteen minutes, the entire bottle of brandy was empty.  
  
Quentin began frantically to search his room for another bottle of anything. He didn't care what is was, he was going to drink it. He furiously pulled the drawers from his dresser and desk, dumping them out onto the floor and then sifting through the contents with his foot. Nothing in either piece of furniture. He flipped his mattress over and looked there, throwing the sheeting onto the floor. Nothing. Quentin dropped to the floor and looked under the bed and into the bottom of the box spring. Nothing. Quentin stood up and looked around the room.  
  
He tried to remember if there were any secret places that he used to hide liquor. He went over to his wardrobe and took all the clothes out, throwing them across the room. He looked around the bottom of the wardrobe. There was nothing but shoes. Quentin stood on his tip toes and looked over the top of the wardrobe. Nothing there but dust. Quentin once again dropped to the floor but this time looked under the wardrobe. Nothing their but an old sock which Quentin left lying there. He stood up and walked over to the mantle, placing his hands on the mantle and leaned onto it. He looked up at the painting of a cottage on the sea hanging over top of the mantle. A memory suddenly hit him. Quentin moved the painting aside to reveal a hole in the wall.  
  
Taking the painting off the wall and laying it on the floor, Quentin reached into the hole and felt around. A bottle! Yes! Quentin pulled it out and looked at it. Empty. He threw it behind him and heard it hit a wall. Quentin continued to feel around. He felt farther to the left. There was nothing else. He felt to the right. Another bottle! Quentin pulled it out and read the label. It was Vodka, and a full bottle to! Quentin quickly unscrewed the lid and threw it to the floor. He started gulping down the liquor. Half the bottle was gone when Quentin took the bottle away from his mouth. He took a breath before putting the bottle back up to his mouth. After the whole bottle was downed, Quentin dropped it to the floor. He wiped his mouth with his sleeve and stuck his hand back into the hole. There was nothing else.  
  
More! More! He had to have more! Quentin went over to the door and slowly and quietly unlocked it. Slowly opening it, the door pushed the clothes laying behind it across the floor. Quentin lightly stepped out of his room and into the hall. He walked down the hallway until he came to another door which he quietly opened. He peeked his head out into the hallway and looked around. Everyone's door was shut and there was no lights on. Quentin sneaked downstairs and into the kitchen. He rumbled through the pantries looking for a bottle of liquor. He found the jackpot! Countless bottles of brandy, cherry, vodka, burban, amontillado, among others. He grabbed a bottle of vodka and stuffed it in one of his pockets. He grabbed a small bottle of amontillado and stuffed that in another pocket. Grabbing a bottle of brandy with his right hand and a bottle of cherry with his left, Quentin shut the pantry doors and left the kitchen.  
  
Reaching his room and entering, Quentin unloaded his booty onto the table with the empty brandy bottle sitting on it. He grabbed the bottle of vodka and downed that first. They the brandy. Then the cherry. Saving the best for last, Quentin picked up the bottle of amontillado and began walking around the room. He started staggering and stumbling. Stumbling into a wall, Quentin fell to the ground and landed on a pile of clothes. He twisted the top off the bottle of amontillado and took a swing. He started giggling like a child. Rehab. Ha! What good did it do him? None! And he told Carolyn it wouldn't but she insisted. Sometimes he thought her a little to wishful for reality. She was always trying to better everyone. Quentin took another swig. He looked at his room. How long would it take him to clean this mess up? With all the liquor he had drank her certainly wouldn't want to do it tomorrow. He was going to have a horrible hangover. Maybe he wouldn't wake up until late in the afternoon. That way he wouldn't have to deal with it so soon.  
  
Lifting the bottle to his lips and downing a huge gulp, Quentin twisted the top back on the bottle and set it down beside him. He had just failed himself and everyone around him and he knew it. Carolyn had been counting on his being sober once he got out of rehab. He told her that he went to bars when he was in Georgia, but he hadn't told her that he had only water. Though he was tempted to have a drink, he forced himself not to order one. It was a sort of self induced rehab.  
  
And now what had he done? Come home and the first challenge that he faced he downed numerous bottles of whatever he could find. Perhaps he could never change. That was what he told the rehab people when he first got there. They told he him he could and would change, but it would be up to him when and if he did. Quentin knew he could if he wanted to, but did he want to? At this moment he didn't, but then again he was drunk out of his mind. Quentin unscrewed the top of the bottle and took a gulp of the amontillado. He struggled to raise himself from the floor and when he had, Quentin staggered over to his bed and fell onto it. The mattress was half leaned up against the wall and when Quentin flopped onto the bed, the mattress slowly slid down under him until it came to rest in a position where half the mattress was on the bed and half was hanging over the side.  
  
Quentin dropped his bottle to the floor and grabbed a pillow. Burying his face in the pillow, Quentin slowly drifted off to sleep. Once asleep, Quentin began dreaming. In his dream, he saw Carolyn standing next to one of those things he kept seeing in his house in Georgia. She seemed like she didn't even notice that the thing was there. They were all standing in a extremely dark room. The only thing Quentin could see was Carolyn and the thing standing beside her. Quentin walked up to Carolyn and she held out her hands in front of her. In each of her hands there was one card. Quentin guess that he had to pick one, so, without any thought whatsoever, he picked the one in her left hand. Unfolding the card, he held it up to his face to read what is said: 'The path you choose is one of many dangers. The people you meet along the way you will remember as nothing but strangers. If you continue with the life you currently lead, then this warning you will not heed: Your life is currently filled with booze, and the more you drink the more you lose. Turn you life around and do it straight away, or else you will soon be facing your dying day.'  
  
Quentin turned around as another sight appeared. A light shone in a part of the room, down on to Quentin standing in front of one of those creatures he saw in Georgia. He thing came at him, and, before Quentin could dodge, stabbed Quentin in the chest. Quentin grasped at his chest and fell to the ground. The creature bent down and began to stab Quentin over and over again in the back. When the creature turned Quentin over, Quentin's eyes were wide with fright.  
  
Quentin woke up screaming. He thrashed around in his bed. When he caught a grasp of what had just happened, he rummaged around on the floor, looking for the bottle of amontillado he remembered dropping before he fell asleep. When he found it, he picked it up and stared into to it for a few seconds. Getting up, bottle in hand, he walked over to the fireplace. Quentin unscrewed the top, and, after throwing it into the fire place, he lifted the bottle up. He looked at it as if her were saying goodbye to a life long friend. Kneeling down in front of the fire place, Quentin began to turn to bottle sideways. He placed the bottle to his lips and quickly drank the amontillado bottle dry, and then tossed it into the fireplace.  
  
Chapter 11  
  
"Quentin? Are you all right?" Carolyn placed her ear up to the door and listened for any sound. "Quentin? Quentin are you even in there?" Carolyn listened again. There was no sound coming from Quentin's room. She tried to the door knob. Still locked. "Damn you Quentin!" Carolyn said, huffing off down the hall.  
  
When she returned, she had a ring of keys in her hand. She picked one out with a big Q written in black marker on the square end of the key, and stuck it in the key hole. Turning the key, she turned the door knob and pushed the door open slowly. The same mess that Quentin had fallen asleep on top of in front of the fireplace and all around the room greeted Carolyn when she walked in. "Took two months to clean it up and he trashes it and one night," she muttered, lightly stepping around the room. She saw Quentin laying in front of the fireplace.  
  
"Quentin? Quentin? QUENTIN WAKE UP!!!!!!!!" Quentin jumped up and then land back on the floor with a start. "What the hell are you yelling for?" Quentin mumbled, rubbing his eyes and then his head. "Well, I see you've switched back to your old ways, and rather quickly at that. I thought it would have taken you at least a week to start this mess up again." Carolyn looked down at Quentin angrily. He had no reply for her. "Well, since you are speechless, I shall make one. You went through rehab and for what? To please me? If that's the case you should have done this somewhere else so I wouldn't find the mess. There are a few bottles of liquor missing from the pantry in the kitchen. Should I alert the authorities or am I staring at the culprit?" "What do ya expect? I had a trying time this past few days, years, whatever, and I needed something to ease the pain." "I don't really believe that. You haven't eased any pain because by looking at you, you are in more pain than you were last night." "You know, you are right about that. I would die for some advil." Quentin picked himself off the floor and tripped over a few things on the floor. "You will not have any advil until pick this room up. I spent two months cleaning the crud and mess out of it after you left, and not just so you could come back and trash it in a quarter of that time." "You sound just like our-" "I know, I know, our mother. I can't help but sound like that. You are still as immature as you were when you were younger. For god sakes Quentin, your 35 years old and I am 44! I should not have to pick up after you anymore!" Carolyn walked out of the room, head held high, and shut the door behind her, locking Quentin in his room. "Look at Ms. High and Mighty," Quentin muttered to himself, laying down on his bed.  
  
In the drawing room, Maggie sat on the sofa reading the morning paper. A familiar headline graced the front page: 'Another Local Girl Murdered: Police Say a Serial Killer May Be On the Loose,'. Maggie just skimmed the article to catch the person's name: Jeremy Skiller. A man this time! After three women had been killed the killer switched to a man.  
  
Maggie looked through the rest of the paper and found nothing to her interest so she set the paper on the coffee table. She picked up her coffee cup and took a sip, walking over to the bay window. She looked out upon the grounds as the sun slowly rose over the grass, making it shine and twinkle from the thin layer of due laying over it. The leaves on the tree swayed in the wind, and a few of them broke off. Fall was coming and all the leaves would start turning those pretty reds and yellows and oranges that Maggie just adored to look at on a fine fall day. "Good morning," Carolyn said entering the drawing room and breaking Maggies daydreams. "Is it?" Maggie answered, continuing to stare out the window. "What do you mean?" "Well, judging by the screaming that was going on by a person who shall remain nameless," Maggie glanced at Carolyn and started walking over to her, "it isn't." "Oh, you heard that?" Carolyn gave a slight chuckle. "I didn't think I was yelling that loud." "Did you see the morning paper?" Maggie asked, taking a seat in one of the chairs on the other side of the couch. "No, I-" Carolyn picked up the paper and read the headline. "Oh, that's awful. Another murder! When are the police gonna wise up and catch this madman?" "I don't know. Hopefully it will be before he kills another person."  
  
Carolyn sat down on the couch and began reading the article. "It says here that his girlfriend found him sitting on there front porch with his eyes wide open with terror." Carolyn looked up at Maggie. "What?!" Maggie said, surprised. She suddenly remembered finding Joe dead on her front porch. She could definitely identify with that poor girl. "Oh, Maggie, I'm so sorry. I forgot." "It's—it's okay Carolyn, really." Maggie took another sip of her coffee. Carolyn put down the newspaper.  
  
In the foyer, Quentin banged and fumbled down the stairs. Walking like someone had tied puppet strings to his arms and feet, Quentin entered the drawing room and sat down in a chair. He leaned his head back against the back of the chair and started laughing. "What are you laughing about?" Carolyn asked in a stern tone. "You thought you could lock me in, ha ha, but I had a spare key." Quentin continued laughing and didn't lift his head up and look at Carolyn. "Well, next time I'll remember to get that key away from you." "Oh, you know what, screw you! All you do is preach to me over and over again about how I should stop drinking. Why don't you take your sermons and shove them! I can't stop drinking, it's the only companion I've had through the years. Nobody has ever been there to talk with me, everyone was always so preoccupied with everything else! So take your stupid values and your idiotic speeches and eat them for all I care!" Quentin looked at Carolyn with rage while he said this and then he started laughing again. "You know, I think I'm about as full of it as you are!" Quentin said, laughing. "Please Quentin! Let's talk about this later!" "Oh god! We wouldn't want dear sweet Maggie to be in the room to hear what we were saying so she could go and tell the rest of the town what a crappy family we really are! We you know what!? Damn family pride and all that junk! I'm tired of it all!" Quentin said this in a half serious, half laughing voice. He got up and walked that same puppet walk he had walked into the drawing room. He went over to the bar and poured a glass of the brown liquid. "See this?" he said raising the glass. "This is the only salvation I have ever had in my life. So, here's to—here's to my salvation!" Quentin drank it all and then spit it out immediately in front of the doorway. "What the hell is this?" "It's brandy," Carolyn answered. "Well it must've gone bad or something," Quentin said, swaying back in forth. He dropped the glass to the floor and walked out of the room.  
  
Carolyn turned to Maggie. She started laughing quietly. "What's so funny?" "I replaced all the brandy in the brandy bottles with tea!" Carolyn and Maggie started laughing together. They thought of Quentin going into the study and drinking that 'brandy' and spitting it out. The day began to get better. Carolyn asked Maggie not to tell anyone what she had seen at the house while she was staying there. Maggie told Carolyn that she wouldn't tell, and that Carolyn didn't even have to ask her not to.  
  
Maggie arrived home and put her suitcases down in the living room. Her overall stay at Collinwood had been a good one, and Roger hadn't been as much trouble as she thought he was going to be. David and Angelique were still away, and Maggie hoped the were having a good time and that David was spending his time there worrying about the problems that he was going to have when he returned.  
  
Maggie set her purse down on the couch and went over to the inn table where her phone and answering machine were setting. She pressed the message button and the answering machine told her in a computer voice "You have one message,". The machine beeped and the message began playing. At first there was a long period of silence, probably about 20 seconds or so. Then came only breathing, and heavy breathing at that. A few seconds later, a horrifying scream erupted from the machine, so loud that it was sure to explode Maggie's ear drums, so she had to cover her ears. The scream lasted for 30 seconds or so, at which point a most hideous evil laughter could be heard. It was a woman's laughter. The laughter lasted for a short time, and then the voice said "Murder, murder, that's the game. Collinsport will never be the same!" and the laughter started again.  
  
Maggie hurriedly unplugged the machine and fell to the floor. She covered her face, hysterically crying. Who would do this to her, and why would they do it? Maggie couldn't think. She decided after taking a few deep breaths and calming herself down that she would call the police and give them the tape as evidence.  
  
"Is there no damned brandy in the whole of this house?" Quentin screamed aloud as he hastily rummaged through a cabinet in the cellar. He had looked in the pantry, the study, the library, and practically every other room in the house, even going so far as looking in the east and west wings to see if there was any brandy left in any of the bottles that his ancestors drank from years before him. He had found nothing in any place, and would find nothing here either.  
  
"This house! This wretched house!" Quentin screamed, picking up a old wooden crate and throwing it against the cinder block wall, shattering it into a thousand pieces. He had drank the last of the liquor in the house last night. "But how can that be? There was a ton of other bottles in the pantry then." Quentin thought for a moment. "Carolyn. That witch!" Quentin rushed out of the cellar and up the stairs. He reached Carolyns door and put his ear up to it to listen to see if she was in there. He heard nothing. Placing his hand on the door handle, he slowly twisted it. It began to squeak loudly, so Quentin opened the door and shut it quickly. Roger came out of his room, rolling his oxygen cart behind him. He listened for the noise that had brought him out. He heard nothing. "This old house, always creaking and cracking, making me waste my oxygen," he mumbled, going back into his room and slamming the door.  
  
Quentin looked around in Carolyn's room. The drapes were drawn, so he need not to turn on a lamp. "Where would she hide it?" Quentin asked himself, looking around the room. He started with the dresser, opening drawer after drawer and feeling around in the clothes for any bottles. Nothing. He then bent down and looked under the bed. He felt up inside the box spring. Nothing their either. Next he moved to the closet. He opened the door and turned the overhead light on. There was nothing in there but clothes. Quentin shut the door rather hard, realizing a few seconds after that it may have been a mistake.  
  
Quentin suddenly had a bright idea. The cottage! Carolyn could have taken all the brandy there! No one had lived there for years so it would be the perfect place to hide something like that. Quentin left Carolyn's room and headed down to the cottage. Walking through the woods, the leaves and fallen branches crunched under his feet. He looked up at the sky. Completely clear. No storm clouds whatsoever, which was totally unlike Collinsport. Tonight would be a full moon. How glad Quentin was that he didn't have to go through that awful changing process again, and that he didn't have to come out of it knowing that he had probably committed murder.  
  
Reaching the cottage, Quentin opened the door which had a few pieces of glass missing. He walked inside. Looking around, he saw nothing but cob webs and broken furniture. There were leaves all over the place, and a few of the beams had fallen from the ceiling. Quentin walked into one of the bedrooms and looked around. There was nothing but a bed and the inn tables on either side of it. He walked over to the closet and opened it. Nothing. Quentin went back out into the living room and looked at the fireplace. There was a painting above the fireplace which was leaning to the right. Quentin noticed a bit of light shining through a hole that the painting was not covering. He went over and took the painting off the wall, simply throwing it to the floor. He looked into the hole that was behind it. Jackpot. Full of bottles of brandy, vodka, amontillado, among others.  
  
Quentin took three of the bottles out of the hole in the wall and stuffed them into his pockets. He took another out, this one full of amontillado, and opened it, downing a fourth of it in a gulp. "That's not good for you, you know," a voice came from nowhere. Quentin spun around and looked for its origin. "Who said that?" "I did," said a man draped in a long silver cape that flowed through the air like water through a tube. The man had blonde hair and piercing green eyes. His face was very masculine, his cheek and jaw bones clearly outlined in his skin. "Who are you?" Quentin asked, raising the bottle to his lips. "Ah-ah. I wouldn't do that if I were you," the man said, waving his index finger at Quentin. "Well then it's a good thing you ain't me, isn't it?" Quentin said, tipping the bottle up so that the liquor flowed into his mouth. He quickly spit it out towards the man in the silver cape. The liquid froze in mid air and dropped to the floor when the man held his hand up. "I told you not to do it." "What the hell was that?" Quentin asked, tossing the bottle aside, and it breaking when it hit the floor. "Blood. A taste that you should be used to." "Who are you?" "A friend, or an enemy, depending on you." "Why does everything depend on me? Whether or not a tree gets cut down depends on me anymore." "Everything depends on you because you are the key to everything." "What?" "Here, sit down," the man said, motioning to two chairs that hadn't been there before. They were covered with a red velvet, and when Quentin sat down he thought that they were very comfortable. The man sat down in the chair across from Quentin. "If someone comes by here, they will see us here," Quentin said, taking out a brandy bottle from the inside pocket of his coat. He held it up and looked at it. Suddenly the whole room was bathed in candle light. "Yes, that is blood as well. All the liquor here is." The man stared intently at Quentin, waiting for yet another question. "What is your name?" Quentin asked, dropping the bottle to the floor, it shattering and the blood spilling everywhere. "My name is Andron. I suggest you stop dropping the bottles of blood to the floor." "And why is that?" "Because every time you do, someone in this town looses a pint of blood. It only takes four bottles, depending on the size, to break and kill someone. And, when you've killed all the people whose blood is kept in those bottles, the bottles you break will be of your own blood." "Why?" "It is your curse Quentin." "But Magda placed the werewolf curse on me. I was not cursed to kill people." "Ah, but you were. Everytime you change you kill someone. And, you don't change anymore, at least you didn't for a while.' "What do you mean I didn't for a while? I don't change into that beast at all!" "That's where you are wrong, dear Quentin. Look. Look at the portrait you so carelessly threw to the ground." Andron pointed to the portrait laying on the floor beside Quentins chair. Quentin looked down at it. It was his portrait and it had a huge rip through the center of it!  
  
Chapter 12  
  
"But, but—but that wasn't the portrait I threw to the ground!" "Are you sure? Did you even really look at it? I don't think you did. You were to hell bent on getting another glass of brandy down your throat. And what about those people you have been seeing. Have you seen any of them lately?" "What do you know of them?" "Enough. Enough to tell you who and what they are." "Well?!?! What are they?!?!" "Not now Quentin, perhaps later, after our discussion has progressed a bit further." "Yes! Yes, now! I come here and you show up and suddenly my portrait is the one I threw to the ground when it wasn't before, and all the good liquor that I had been searching for turns to blood. What gives?" "I give. You take. Haven't you heard anything I have said in the short time we have talked? Every drink you have ever put into your body had taken life from someone. You have slowly, but surely, drained about 200 peoples blood from their body. Do you know how that feels? Of course you don't! But you shall, soon enough." "Why do you tell me all these things? You must know I am going to ask questions, and I know that you will not answer them." "I will answer them, but you will not have the answers if you do not pay attention. Now, as I was saying, you have drained the life, slowly, from about 200 people. Every drink you take will drain the blood, the life force from another that you will never know. They are merely good bottles of drink to you, nothing more." "Will I start changing again? Into that horrible beast?" "Yes, you will. You have led a miserable life Quentin, and it is about time you started paying for it." "With what? I have nothing." "Oh, everybody has something. You Quentin, you have a soul. A soul that the devil himself would very much like to get a hold of right about now, which is why I was sent here. Quentin, you must change. Change your ways. I know it will be hard, but it must be done. The more people you kill, the more desirable you will become. Quentin, you are a force. A force which if conquered and consumed, will make whomever has your soul the most powerful being on earth. The most powerful evil being that is." "What am I to do?" "Isn't it obvious? STOP KILLING PEOPLE! Again, I ask, have you not heard one word I've said? You cannot have another drink. I've already told you that with every drink you take, you ingest yet another part of yet another person. You are the only one who has control over this Quentin. Should your essence, your soul, get into the hands of another, should you die, the world will come to an end. Which brings me to the people you have been seeing. They are not imaginary. They are real. They are a society of hunters, employed by the devil, to hunt down immortals and kill them, giving their souls to the devil so he may become stronger. You are currently the most powerful immortal on this earth." "Does this all have to fall upon my shoulders?" "Yes. It does. Now listen. You must not be killed by the hunters. They must not have your soul. You must stop your self destruction for good! You will be forever inflicted with your werewolf curse, and nothing can stop you from changing. But, you can stop yourself from killing others. You have done it before, you can do it again. Listen to my warning Quentin, and heed it! Your life depends upon it! Your...life...depends...upon...it! Your.......life...........depends.........upon........i.......t!" Andron had disappeared.  
  
Quentin looked around. He screamed for the man to come back. "Andron! Andron! Come back! Tell me more!" He kept looking around. Carolyn walked into the cottage. "Quentin have you been drinking again? I hid all the liquor so you wouldn't find it, but it seems you have." Carolyn had that 'tsk, tsk' look. "No, I haven't been drinking." "Quentin, how can you lie to me when your upper lip is stained red?" "That's blood." Quentin looked around the room to see if any of the bottles he had thrown about and had broken were still there. They weren't. "Blood? Are you hurt?" "No, no. I'm fine," Quentin said softly. He was still trying to sort out the things that Andron had said to him. He ironically needed a drink. "Let's go back to Collinwood." Quentin walked around Carolyn and out of the cottage.  
  
Knock, knock, knock. Maggie looked up from the magazine she had been trying to read to keep her mind off of the message on her answering machine. She put the magazine down on the couch beside her, and got up. She walked over to the door where she put her hand on the knob and asked "Who is it?" "It's Sheriff Winfield." Maggie waited for a moment and then unlocked the door. "Thank you for coming sheriff. Please, come in." Maggie stepped aside and let him in before closing and locking the door behind him. "So what is this about a message left on your machine?" "I came home from staying at Collinwood and I checked my messages. I had only one message, so I played it. At first there was nothing but silence. Then there was heavy breathing. Then horrible screaming! Then there was laughter! The most haunting laughter! Then, the person on the other end said 'Murder, murder, that's the game. Collinsport will never be the same!' and started laughing again!" Maggie became hysterical as she explained what had happened. The sheriff went over to calm her. "Calm down Ms. Evans, calm down. May I listen to the message?" "Yes," Maggie said, pointing to the machine. She was afraid of it, afraid to go near it or even touch it. The sheriff pushed the play button. "You have one message," the machined said in the same computerized voice. "Message one," the message started playing. Maggie covered her ears.  
  
There was silence, just like before. Then there was a heavy breathing, like someone was hyperventilating because they were frightened. Then came heavy sobbing and a light scream. The sobbing continued for the whole message. The machine cut off and said "End of messages." The sheriff turned to Maggie who had her ears covered, and who was lightly humming so she wouldn't have to hear the message over again. "Uh, Ms. Evans?" Maggie didn't hear him. "Ms. Evans!?!!?" Maggie lightly jumped and let her hands fall from her ears. "Are you sure this is the message you described to me?" "Yes, yes I'm sure. It was horrible!" "Um, Ms. Evans, the message I listened to was not the one you described to me." "What? Are you sure? How can that be?" "Yes, I am sure. The message I heard had silence first, then heavy breathing like you described, but then there was sobbing and a light scream. The sobbing continued until the message ended." "That can't be possible! The message that I described is on there, it has to be!" Maggie walked over to the machine and hesitated for a moment before touching the play button. The machine repeated the same message it had before when the sheriff had listened to it. When the message was finished playing, Maggie looked shocked. "That's my reaction to the message when I heard it. Can't that be used? Certainly it should prove that there was a message." "Well Ms. Evans, it does hint that there was a message, but it would never hold up as hard evidence. You could have been crying over anything on that tape. I'm sorry." The sheriff walked over to the door. Maggie looked appalled. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. It simply wasn't possible. Although, she should have known that in Collinsport anything was possible. "Thank you for coming sheriff," Maggie said flatly, still searching her mind for a reason to what had happened. The sheriff unlocked the door and let himself out. Maggie dropped to the floor, leaning against the back of the couch. She desperately tried to put two and two together to make four, but the addition wasn't working. There was no sound reason that the message should have been deleted. She didn't delete it. The power hadn't gone out. No one else had been there since she had gotten home—she had sat right beside the machine until the sheriff arrived. Unless, unless someone she couldn't see deleted the message. A ghost? No. Wouldn't she have felt its presence? Maggie's mind filled with hundreds of questions, and she would spend much of night trying to figure them out.  
  
Quentin and Carolyn had returned to Collinwood and sat in the drawing room. She knew something was wrong with him, but he was reluctant to tell her what it was. She tried to get him to slip up and tell her something, something she could use to figure out what was wrong with him on her own. "Quentin, something happened to you at the cottage, didn't it?" Carolyn inquired, staring at him. "How many times do I have to tell you no? Which letter don't you understand?" Quentin had grew tiresome of her questions about 20 questions ago. "Quentin, there is no use lying to me. I know something happened to you at the cottage. When I came in you looked confused, like you were trying to figure something out. Now tell me what is bothering you. You know you can trust me." Carolyn looked with pleading eyes at Quentin. He hesitated for a moment. "I...I.." he started, but was interrupted by the phone ringing. Carolyn looked annoyed as she got up and walked over to the phone, picking up the receiver.  
  
"Hello?" "Ms. Stoddard? This is Sheriff Winfield." "What can I do for you sheriff?" "Nothing, thank you. I have called because I have some news about your cousin and his wife" "About David?" "Yes. His flight went down over Virginia. I don't have much information beyond that. The authorities down there don't think anyone survived. I'm sorry." Carolyn's face dropped. She didn't say anything for several seconds. "Thank—thank you sheriff." Carolyn hung up. She walked over to the couch and sat down, stunned.  
  
"Carolyn, what happened?" "David's....David's plane went down over Virginia. The authorities don't know if anyone survived or not." Carolyn dropped her head between her legs and into her hands. "Oh my god," was all Quentin could say. "I'll have to go down there to claim the bodies." "If they are dead, Carolyn. We don't know that they are yet." "I know, I know. I'm going up to pack." Carolyn left the room, tears running down her cheeks. A short time later, Carolyn was gone.  
  
Quentin sat alone in the drawing room. He busied himself be thinking about what Andron had said to him earlier at the cottage. A few new questions brewed in Quentin's mind about Andron. Like, what was he? Where did he come from? Why was he helping a lost cause like Quentin? Quentin wondered if what Andron had told him about drinking and it taking away other people's blood was true. Could it have just been something that would make Quentin stop drinking? If so, why did Andron tell Quentin something as drastic as that? Why didn't Andron tell him that if he didn't stop that he would die? Did Andron think that Quentin didn't care about his own life enough to save it?  
  
All these thoughts passed through Quentin's head at the speed of light, coming in one side and going out the other. Quentin dropped his head into his hands. What he wouldn't give for a drink right now, and to be able to drink it without thinking that he may or may not be killing someone. Quentin looked up, and on the table in front of him sat a glass of brandy. It hadn't been there before, so how did it get here? Quentin knew how. "Andron! This is a test isn't it! I know it is! You knew I was thinking that I wanted a drink so you provided me with one, didn't you?!? Well, I won't drink it! I won't! I am going to past this test!" Quentin got up and picked up the glass of brandy. He walked over to the fireplace. He was going to throw it in, but something stopped him. He raised the glass until it was under his nose, and he sniffed the brandy. It smelt so good. If only he could drink it. "Oh no! I'm not going to do it! You lose!" Quentin threw the glass into the fireplace, causing it to flare up and turn a unlikely shade of green. Quentin dusted his hands off, feeling quite proud of himself.  
  
With a huge grin on his face, he looked up to the ceiling and said "You see? I passed this test, and I will pass every other one you put before me!" For some reason Quentin felt the need to show Andron up. Typical male competition. Quentin turned around and went back to the chair he was sitting in before and sat down. He looked at the table where the brandy glass had been before. Suddenly, the same brandy glass slowly appeared before Quentin's eyes!  
  
"Oh no. You think just because I didn't drink the first one, I will drink the second one? Well, you're wrong!" Quentin got up and threw that glass into the fireplace, turning the fire the same green it had before. When Quentin turned around, the brandy glass was sitting on the table once again. He went through the same process again, the fire turning the same green it had turned the previous two times. He did this three more times, each time the fire turning green like it had before. When he turned around, after having done it for a seventh time, the glass was on the table again.  
  
"You know what? Fine! I'll drink this wretched brandy, and then what will you do? Hmm? What will you do then? You're the smart one here, so tell me!" Quentin paused, waiting for an answer that wouldn't come. "Fine! Have you damn way!" Quentin picked the glass up and raised it to his mouth. He let the brandy lick at his lips before parting the gates and letting the brandy flow through. When Quentin had downed half the glass, Roger entered the drawing room, oxygen tank handle in one hand, business section of the paper in the other. "Indulging ourselves in a late afternoon drink are we?" Roger said, parking his cart by the couch. "Mmmhmm." Quentin said, finishing the glass. "I thought you had quit drinking," Roger told Quentin, putting his paper down on the couch, but remaining standing. "Well, old habits die hard I guess," Quentin replied, directing the comment more at Andron than at Roger. Quentin sat down in the chair and set the empty brandy glass on the table in front of him. Roger stepped in front of the couch. Suddenly, he felt a sharp pain in his side and then grasped the side of the couch, trying with what little strength he had to hold himself up. "Roger? Roger are you all right?" Quentin stood, and looked worried. What was happening to him? Roger suddenly fell to the floor.  
  
Quentin went over to Roger and shook him, trying to get him to wake up. He wouldn't. "Don't die on me now Roger! Don't die!" Quentin continued to shake him, trying to wake him up. There was no response. He felt for a pulse. 


	4. Part Four

Chapter 13  
  
Quentin felt for a pulse. There was none. He turned Roger over so that he was laying on his back and started CPR. Quentin pushed on Rogers chest, one hand on top the other and interlocked, five times. Then Quentin blew air into his mouth. He repeated this process over and over and over again, until he would get a reaction. Quentin felt for a pulse again. Roger had one, but had not waken up. Quentin hurried over to the phone and dialed 911, waiting frantically for the operator to pick up on the other end.  
  
When the ambulance arrived, Quentin told the paramedics that Roger had just dropped down to the floor. He told the paramedics that Rogers heart had stopped and that Quentin did CPR on him and got a pulse back. The ambulance took Roger to the hospital, and Quentin stayed at Collinwood. "You were trying to prove something to me, weren't you?" Quentin yelled to the ceiling, walking back into the drawing room. "Yes, I was," came Andron's voice from behind Quentin. Quentin quickly spun around. "You knew that I doubted what you said about every time I drink I take away a portion of someone's life, didn't you? "Yes, I did." Andron walked around Quentin to stand in front of the fireplace. "Isn't it funny how one little glass of brandy," at this point the glass appeared on the table again, "can cost someone so much." "Why did it have to be Roger? Why him? He was on deaths door anyway." "If I had of had it happen to someone you didn't know, you would have never known that what I said was true, now would you?" "Is Roger going to die?" "I can't be sure. You are right, he was on deaths door. Judging by how he immediately fainted when you drank the brandy, I estimate that he had only a few days left. Don't feel guilty if he dies. He was going to die soon anyway." "So that gives you the right to take his life from him a few days to early?" "You see, that's where you're wrong. It doesn't give me the right, it doesn't give anyone the right. But you drank the brandy, so you are the one who, if he dies, has taken his life away from him a few days to early, not me." "You irresponsible bastard!" Quentin yelled, arms outstretched, intending to wrap them around Androns throat. Andron quickly disappeared and reappeared behind Quentin. "Wrong again, Quentin. I am not the irresponsible one, you are. I am simply here to show you what you have been doing to people for nearly 100 years. The truth hurts, doesn't it Quentin?" "You'll pay for this." "No, you will pay for this. Others who suffer because of you will pay for it, but not me. Now, I suggest to head to the hospital, Roger is due to take a turn for the worse." Andron disappeared. Quentin looked around the room. "Andron! ANDRON!" Quentin yelled. There was no answer. Quentin checked his pockets for his car keys, and when he was sure he had them, he rushed out the door.  
  
Scottsville, Virginia  
  
Carolyn waited in the hospital for a nurse to come back from the nurse's station. Carolyn had flew down there and found out as much as she could. Of the 78 people on the plane, 70 had died, and only 7 had survived. One body was still missing. Carolyn decided that she should first go to the hospital, to see if David and Angelique were there, and if they weren't, they had to be dead. The nurse returned with a clipboard. She told Carolyn to follow her to the intensive care unit.  
  
Once there, the nurse pointed out the 7 beds that the survivors were laying in, and told her that some of them were pretty gruesome looking and that she may not be able to identify them if they were who she was looking for. Carolyn ignored the nurse, and checked the beds, one by one. The first one wasn't David or Angelique, nor was the second, nor the third. The occupant of the fourth bed was burned on his or her face, but Carolyn was pretty sure that it wasn't David or Angelique. The occupant of the fifth bed had blonde hair, but the woman had bandages over her face. Carolyn thought that this could be Angelique, but after checking for a very noticeable wound scar on the underside of the woman's left arm, Carolyn was convinced it wasn't her. The sixth bed wasn't occupied at all, and when asked, the nurse told Carolyn that person had died. Carolyn came upon the seventh bed, praying in her mind for it to be either David or Angelique. Pulling back the curtain, Carolyn let out a yelp of pleasure at seeing her cousin David laying in the bed, nearly unharmed.  
  
David had a cast on his right arm, and a bandage on his forehead. Other than that, and a few scrapes and bruises, he was perfectly fine. Carolyn told the nurse that this was her cousin, David Collins, and the nurse marked it down on the clipboard before walking away. Carolyn pulled a chair up beside the bed and took his left hand in her right and held it, tears of joy running down her face. David slowly opened his eyes, recognizing his cousins warm touch. "David! You're alive!" Carolyn said, kissing his cheek. "Yes, and mostly unharmed, lucky for me," David muttered. He tried to sit up, but winced in pain, figuring he probably had a few broken ribs. "Angelique, do you know where she is?" "She isn't in one of those beds?" "No." David closed his eyes, a few tears slipping out from under his eye lids. "She's dead. I know it." "How do you know? She could be at another hospital. They may have more survivors than previously thought." "No. She is dead. I saw her die." "You what?" "I...I saw her die." David shuddered and opened his watery eyes. "Oh David, I'm so sorry." "She saved my life. She pushed me into the bathroom of the plane, there was only room for one!" David began to sob uncontrollably. Carolyn held him in her arms, letting him cry all he wanted. When he had stopped, he looked at her. "The plane hit a-" "You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to David," Carolyn said, looking at him with her caring eyes. "I want to talk about it. The police have to know what happened. The plane hit something in the air, I don't know what it was. It sent our plane into a tailspin, and everyone flew out of their seats, going from one end of the plane to the other. Angelique and I tried to get back to the bathrooms, and when we did, there was only room for one in the bathroom. We heard a boom, and Angelique......." David stopped and started crying again. It was amazing he had been able to get that far. "We can talk about it later, David. Please, just rest." "NO! I want to tell you! Angelique pushed me in. She told me she loved me and that she would see me again someday. Then she shut the door." David finished and started sobbing again.  
  
In Collinsport, Quentin is at the hospital, waiting for a nurse to return with news of Roger. Little did Quentin know that the news wouldn't be good. The nurse came around the corner. "Quentin Collins?" she asked, looking at Quentin. "Yes?" "I'm sorry to inform you that Mr. Roger Collins has died. We did everything we could to try and resuscitate him, but we couldn't get him back. On the way here he went into cardiac arrest, and the EMS team was unable to revive him. The estimated cause of death was blood loss. Again, I'm sorry for your loss." The nurse looked at Quentin who looked completely dumbfounded, and then walked away.  
  
Quentin just sat there. He couldn't believe what he was saying. He had to leave Collinwood. The curse that had been set upon the grounds more that 200 years ago had just struck again. Finally, Quentin rose from his seat and walked down the hall to the ICU. He went through the double doors and looked into the different rooms for Roger. When he found him, Quentin went into the room.  
  
Roger was the only one in the room besides Quentin. There were latex gloves laying all over the floor, as well as sterile gowns that the doctors and nurses had wore when they were still working on him. There was a tube down his throat, and two pieces of tape holding it in, one on each side of his mouth. Rogers skin was extremely pale and Quentin hated the site of Rogers lifeless body laying in front of him.  
  
Tears streamed down Quentin's face, and with the back of his hand he quickly wiped them away. There was nothing he could do for Roger now, so there was no reason to stay. Quentin knew what he had to do. He had to find Andron and make him pay for what he had done.  
  
When Quentin got back to Collinwood, he walked into the drawing room and yelled for Andron a few times. When he got no answer, Quentin thought of the next logical answer for contacting a spirit in Collinwood-a séance. Quentin got a candle and placed it in the middle of the table that the brandy glass had appeared on earlier when Andron was taunting him. Quentin then pulled a chair up closer to the table and turned out the lights. Lighting the candle, Quentin sat down in the chair and put his hands on the table, making sure that they touched and that the candle was in the circle he had formed. Quentin concentrated on finding Andron. "Spirits, I call forth one by the name of Andron. It is not known what he is or is not. I call him forth from wherever he may be at this time, to come here, to this room and make contact with me. Andron, come from hell or heaven. Come from the far reaches of the universe. Wherever you currently may be, I command you to come to me now! I command you in the name of Roger Collins, only one of your probable many victims. Come here and make your presence known!"  
  
Quentin waited a few seconds. Outside the wind howled, and an unlikely clap of thunder was heard—the sky had been clear today. Suddenly, Quentin's shoulders scrunched up and his eyes became fixated on one point on the ceiling. His eyes turned a dark green, he was in a trance. In his mind, flashes of pictures from another time or place swiftly moved. He saw Roger in the hospital bed, dead. He saw and explosion in the village. He saw fire, fire that burned the village to the ground, that consumed Collinwood and turned its luxury to nothing but ashes. He saw himself, trapped in a room, trying to get out. He couldn't. The room was becoming consumed by fire so quickly. Quentin caught fire. The fire licked at his pants leg and then began traveling up it. Quentin screamed in pain as the heat seared his skin. He tried to pat it out with his hands, but when he couldn't, he quickly took off his shirt and tried to pat it out with that. It wasn't working. Next he saw Carolyn, standing at a group of graves. The gravestones could not be seen. When Carolyn moved aside, Quentin read them clearly: Roger Collins 1935-1997. Angelique Collins 1955-1997. David Collins 1955-1997. And finally, Quentin Collins 1897-1997.  
  
Quentin heard himself screaming. His trance was broke and his eyes turned from the dark green they had been, back to the baby blue that entranced the ladies. The candle wasn't on the table, and when Quentin looked for it, he saw it laying at his feet. He noticed that the bottom of his pants were seared, some spots even burned through. Had what he saw been wrong? Had Quentin caught fire just now? Quentin knew he did. But what was all that stuff that he saw in those visions? Was it the future? Was it what was to happen to Collinwood should he not change, or did something else have to be done to prevent that horrible disaster?  
  
As Quentin thought about all these things, he didn't notice that Andron was sitting on the couch in front of him. Andron patiently waited for Quentin to stop asking himself questions, all of which Andron heard in his own mind as well. Quentin looked up and jumped at seeing Andron there. Andron didn't have his normal cape on, and Quentin finally got a good look at him. Short, brown hair, combed to the right. Baby blue eyes, just like Quentin had, that seduced the ladies when they looked into them. Strikingly good looks, that Quentin was sure that he had seen somewhere before. Mutton chops on his cheeks.  
  
Andron was dressed in period clothes, probably from the 19th century. It took Quentin a while to put two and two together. It was as if he was looking into a mirror! Andron looked just as Quentin had in 1897!  
  
Chapter 14  
  
Maggie Evans was walking down the streets of Collinsport. She seemed to be the only one out at this time of night, but she had reason to be. There had been another murder, and this time it had been at the Collinsport Inn. Maggie had driven in her car most of the way, but a ways down the road from the Inn it had run out of gasoline, for Maggie had forgotten to fill it earlier during the day.  
  
Reaching the Inn, Maggie entered to see a group of police officers and yellow tape all over the place. Maggie approached the sheriff and tapped him on the shoulder. "Oh! Ms. Evans, you gave me a start." "Sorry sheriff. Why is all this here? What have you called me down here for?" Maggie asked, eager to hear the answers. The sheriff had been vague on the telephone. "Ms. Evans.... there has been another murder. A Ms. Cathy Walker has been murdered. She was a customer here, was she not?" Maggie took a few seconds to answer. This all came as such a shock to her. One of her own occupants, murdered! "Uh, yes-yes she was," Maggie finally blurted out. "Where is the body?" Maggie asked, still in shock. "At the foot of the stairs," the sheriff gestured over to where the stairs were. Maggie looked around the men and saw a body, covered with a sheet, laying there. "We believe she was attacked in her room and she tried to get away when the attacker pushed her down the stairs. The fall killed her." Maggie looked at the sheriff, wide-eyed. She could barely stutter words out of her mouth. "Ca-Cathy." Maggie said. Tears started streaming down her face. "Ms. Evans, come, sit down here." The sheriff led her over to a table in the diner and sat her down in one of the chairs. "We are going to have to ask you some questions, Ms. Evans. Do you feel up to them now, or would you like to wait?" The sheriff hoped she wouldn't force herself to answer the questions now.  
  
Maggie didn't answer for a couple minutes. She looked at the sheriff and then opened her mouth, not making any sound. Her eyes looked like fear unleashed, and she could hardly keep her composure. All the while she was thinking about why all these murders had to happen. And why did this one have to happen at her Inn? She was sure the Inn would be closed for weeks for the police investigation. "Ms. Evans, you can answer the questions some other time. Why don't you go home and lie down. Is there anyone we can call for you?" Maggie looked up at the sheriff. "NO! I am going to answer the questions! I'm not gonna let that sick man get to me! What do you need to know!?" The sheriff looked shocked. "All right Maggie. How long had Ms. Walker stayed here?" "She had been here for four days." "Do you know of anyone that may have had a grudge against her?" "No. She never talked about her personal life. She just told me that she was here on vacation." Maggie kept her composure, determined not to breakdown and let the killer get to her again. "That's a bit odd." "That's what I said." A tear fell down Maggie's cheek, which she quickly wiped away. "Is there any reason that would make you think this was a suicide?" "No, she was a very upbeat person the few times I talked to her." The sheriff wrote a few notes in his pocket notebook then looked up at Maggie. "Thank you Ms. Evans, that's all we'll be needing for now. Is there anyone we can call?" "Yes. Yes. Call John Crosic."  
  
A half hour later, John Crosic pulled up outside the Inn, fearing that Maggie had been killed. When he came inside and saw her standing in the lobby, he ran up to her, hugged her, and kissed her. "I'm so glad you're okay," he said, pulling her close. "Mr. Crosic, would you take her home? She needs to rest." "Of course. Come on Maggie." Crosic lead Maggie out and put her into his car. After fastening his seat belt, they sped off to Maggies house.  
  
On the way home, they said nothing to each other. John could see that Maggie was shaken up, and he figured there had been another murder. He wanted to ask her if she was okay, but then was afraid that she would breakdown again. So, he didn't ask her until they were almost to her house. "Maggie, are you okay?" "What? Oh. Oh yes, I'm-I'm fine." She said nothing after that. She was extremely tired.  
  
Maggie reached down on the right side of the seat and pulled a lever, which caused the seat to lean backwards. Maggie turned on her side and closed her eyes. Draping her arm over the side of the seat to rest in the floor behind Crosic's seat, Maggie closed her eyes. Her hand had fallen into something wet. Maggie felt around and when she opened her eyes, she saw that a shirt was laying behind the seat. Maggie lifted her hand up and looked at it. Her fingertips were red.  
  
Maggie screamed in horror. John was the killer! Maggie knew it! John looked at Maggie, wondering what she had screamed about. He kept his eyes on her, and asked her what was wrong. "You are the murderer! You are!" Maggie screamed at him. She sat up quickly in her seat and fumbled with her door knob, trying frantically to get the door open. She had to get away from him. She knew he was going to kill her now that she knew!  
  
Maggie looked out in front window. She screamed "Watch out!!!!!" John looked in front of the car. There was a woman standing there, in the middle of the road. John swerved, slamming the breaks. Maggie let out a horrifying scream as did John before....  
  
Quentin stared wide-eyed at the scene before him. He and Andron hadn't spoken one word to each other. Andron was full and ready to talk, but he figured he should wait for Quentin to snap out of the shock. "You-you-you are me!" Quentin said, finally breaking free. "No, I am no one." Quentin stood up and walked over to stand in front of Andron. "What do you mean!" "I mean that I am no one. I am nothing but a spirit, floating about, able to take whatever form I wish. I chose to look like you, so I do. That is all." "What are you trying to tell me?" "This is how you used to be." "What do you mean? That is how I am. I haven't changed!" "Wrong. You have changed. You are no longer the man you were when you looked like this. You are different now." "I am not! I am the same person! I still drink! You saw what I did to Roger." "Yes, I did see. But that doesn't mean that you haven't changed, because you have. You have seen that what I say is true. That you are killing people whether you like it or not." "What did those visions mean? Why did I see them?" "They were simply a glimpse of what is, or was, to come. That is not going to happen anymore. You have changed now, so has the future of the world. You hold the fate of everyone within your hands, whether you know it or not. When we previously talked, you asked me if you were going to change into the wolf again, and I answered yes. I am here now to warn you that tomorrow is the first time you will change." "How can I stop it?" "You cannot stop it. Until you have proven that you have the side of you that is the wolf controlled, you will not stop changing." "How do I do that?" "You must keep yourself from the rest of the world when you change. The hunters will come after you while you are the beast for when you are in that state of mind, of body, that is when your soul is worth so much. If they manage to obtain you, they will kill you. You must not allow that to happen. If it does, the devil will return and apocalypse will overrun the earth. He has already gotten to one immortal in this town, all he needs is you." "Who is the immortal he has already?" "Angelique. She chose to sacrifice herself for her husband, so she was less valuable to the devil. He still took her soul, but her soul alone could not bring him back to being the ruler of the earth. You are the final installment, the final goal." "I will not drink anymore." "You needn't tell me that. I already know. I knew that when you saw how Roger died because of you that you would never touch the liquor again. That is not your problem any longer. Now you must conquer the uncontrollable side of you. Once you have managed to force yourself to stop changing, the wolf and the curse upon you will be broken. You will, however, still be valuable to the devil. I will not lie to you, Quentin. The process will not be easy, nor will it be painless. You must learn to draw the evil part of you that is the wolf from your body." "How am I to do that?" "I am only permitted to give you one hint." Andron paused. He rose from the couch and walked over to a mirror, keeping his back to it. "There is a potion, which if drunk will rob you of your inner wolf. Only if a spell is recited while you are drinking this potion will the wolf be drawn out of you. To find this spell, look for one whom is confined to a canvas." Andron turned around and looked into the mirror. "No wonder you used to do whatever you wanted. What with these good looks, who wouldn't?" Andron examined himself in the mirror. Quentin looked down to the floor and smirked. When he looked up, Andron was gone.  
  
Chapter 15  
  
Quentin looked around the room, searching for Andron. He didn't see him. Sitting down on the couch, Quentin thought about how he could control the wolf side of him. He knew he would have to lock himself up to keep himself from killing anyone, but he didn't know what he would do beyond that. Quentin stood up and walked over to the bar where he poured himself a drink. Just before lifting it to drink it, he realized that he couldn't do it. He had to break himself of that habit. Quentin put the brandy glass back down and left the room.  
  
Moments later, Quentin arrived in his own room in the west wing. He sat in the chair, trying to think where he could chain himself up. 'The Old House,' he thought. 'No one ever goes there. It will be perfect!' Quentin rose from his chair and went over to his wardrobe where he removed a board on the inside floor. Reaching into the hole, Quentin felt around for the shackles that he knew were there. Once he had found them, he pulled them out and put the board back over the hole. He placed the shackles on the table and knew that tomorrow night, he would chain himself up in the basement of the Old House.  
  
Maggie Evans opened her eyes and looked around. She saw John sitting next to her in the car. They had skidded to a halt before hitting the tree in front of them, and they both had been thrown forward and had hit there heads on the dashboard. Maggie reached her hand up and felt her forehead. There was blood there. She looked over at John again. Her was out cold. This was her chance to get away. She slowly and quietly opened the car door and stepped out onto the ground. After checking that John was still unconscious, she took off running down the road.  
  
Should she go home or would he look for her there? That was the closest place to where the car had crashed, and she could go and call the police there. They would come and arrest him. She knew that is where she had to go. Her house wasn't but a three minute walk from where they had crashed, so she quickly got there. When she reached her house, she patted the sides of her dress, hoping her keys were there. They were! Maggie quickly unlocked the door and went in, locking the door again behind her. She picked up the phone and dialed 911.  
  
"911 emergency response," the operator answered. "Oh my god! Please! Send someone out here quick! I think I have the murderer! He tried to drive me home but we crashed and he is unconscious! Please! Hurry!" "Calm down ma'am. Now, where are you?" "My house! Uh-uh 55558 Sycamore Avenue. Hurry!" Maggie waited for the operators reply, but before it came, there was a bump outside and Maggie screamed before dropping the phone. She looked out the windows from where she was standing behind the couch. There was nothing but darkness. The moon's light was very little tonight, and although Maggie was standing in darkness in her house, she still couldn't see much through the windows. Over at the bay window Maggie saw a shadow pass out of the corner of her eye. She screamed again and ran into her bathroom, shutting and locking the door behind her.  
  
Hunkering down in the corner beside the bathtub, Maggie didn't turn on the light because then she knew that John would know where she was. She heard him call her name from outside, and whimpered at the thought of what he would do to her. She tried to remain as quiet as she could, though her heavy breathing and occasional whimper would have given her away instantly. Out in the living room, she heard a bang on the door. A few seconds later she heard another bang on the door and then another. Finally, she heard one more bang and the it sounded like the door had fallen to the ground. She heard footsteps out in the living room, and figured that it was John. Maggie quietly whimpered again. "Maggie? Maaaagggieee?" he said in a voice that sounded sinister to Maggie. She just knew that he was going to kill her. "Maggie please come out. I just want to be sure you're okay. I know you must be shaken up with the wreck and all, and I don't know what happened to you when you screamed before the wreck but I want to help." Maggie remained where she was. She was waiting for him to come into the bathroom. "Maggggiieeee!!! MAGGIE WHERE ARE YOU!!??!" John screamed, becoming impatient now. He hoped she wasn't dead so he could get to her.  
  
Suddenly the door knob on the bathroom door started rattling. "Maggie, I know you're in there because the door is locked. Just open the door and we can talk about whatever it is that frightened you. Please Maggie, OPEN THE DAMN DOOR!" John screamed. Maggie whimpered, confirming that she was in there. John backed up and kicked the door in, causing it to swing extremely fast on its hinges and hit the wall, the door knob busting a hole in it. "There you are Maggie! Now, let me help you." John started walking towards her.  
  
At Collinwood, Carolyn helped David through the doors and into the drawing room, sitting him on the couch. He was still pretty sore, but he was okay nonetheless. The cast on his arm was still there, but the bandage that had been on his forehead was now gone, only a scar remained. After sitting David on the couch, Carolyn went back through the foyer and closed the door. "Quentin! QUENTIN!" she yelled through the house. After a few minutes waiting, Quentin opened the door and walked out onto the landing. "Oh, Quentin. Would you mind taking David's things up to his room? They're to heavy for me and David can't carry them." "Fine." Quentin walked down the stairs and picked up the bags. Then he turned to Carolyn. "If you need anything else I will upstairs." "Thank you." Carolyn looked at her brother, noticing the huge change in him since she left. He seemed more polite, more in control. Quentin carried the bags upstairs.  
  
After putting David's bags in his room, Quentin headed to the West Wing to his own room. When he entered, the shackles he had left on the table greeted him. "A bit extreme, don't you think?" "No, I don't," Quentin answered, turning around already knowing that Andron was there. This time he looked like the evil werewolf beast that Quentin had never seen. It spooked him. "Is that what I look like when I change?" said Quentin, shakily. "Yes, but do not be afraid of it for fear will be your downfall.." Andron changed into a man with blonde hair and a bony face. "So you plan to chain yourself up in the Old House basement when the time comes?" "Yes. What of it?" Quentin was growing tired of Andron visiting him whenever and telling him what to do. "Nothing. It is a way to keep yourself from hurting anyone, but there is another way." "Yes, I know. The potion." "No, not the potion. It is true that you can drink the potion and that will take away the wolf, but that can only be drunk while in wolf form, and after the first time you have changed. So you see, you cannot use the potion now. If you do not wish to chain yourself up, and I know you do not, then simply take a tranquilizer pill before you change." "Why are you helping me?" "Because if you end the world, the world ends me. There will be no one who will be truly alive. Everyone will be dead but their spirits will remain. It is all very confusing, and I haven't the time to tell you now. I am not even supposed to be here, but I take pity on you. Quentin, there are many out there who loved you once, make them proud by doing something good for a change." "I am still going to chain myself to the wall." "That is your choice. I was simply offering you an alternative." "So you just came to tell me that. I could've figured that out on my own." "Well lets not seem ungrateful here. That is not all I have come to tell you. The real reason I am here is to warn you of something that may happen to you while you are chained up as the beast." "Which is?" Quentin asked, growing impatient. "All things in time, Quentin. All things in time. Until that time I suggest you think about where you are going to put yourself when you change." "The Old House basement, but you already knew that." Quentin took a seat in a chair, wishing that Andron would simply get to the point. "Yes, I know that you WERE going to lock yourself up there, but I do hope you will find a new place." "For what reason?" "If you must know then I will tell you know even though I am not permitted to." "Well who the hell permits you what you can and cannot tell me. To hell with them, just tell me what you need to tell me and let me prepare for what I have to do." "The devil hunters will come for you tomorrow night when you change. When you lock yourself up in the cellar of the Old House, they will know you are there and they will kill you once you have changed form. That is why I asked you to find another place to put yourself. They are less likely to find you should you pick another place to chain yourself up." Quentin looked alarmed. "Is there anything else I can do to protect myself?" Quentin asked, hoping the answer would be yes. "Yes, there is," said Andron, and Quentin sighed relief. "Pour a circle of salt around your before you chain yourself up. Be sure to mix the salt with crumpled garlic and poppy leaf for this will drive the devil hunters away. This is all I ca—"Andron stopped in mid sentence. He fell to the floor. Quentin wondered what was happening. He thought Andron to be untouchable. Suddenly the room was filled with a greenish white light, and Andron was engulfed in it. "Andron! What's happening?!? What's going on?!?!" Andron could not answer. As the greenish white light engulfed him, he screamed in pain. "I've told you to much!" he screamed. There was a enormously loud explosion sound, and pieces of white glitter floated around the room before being sucked into an invisible hole somewhere in the room, where they soon disappeared.  
  
Maggie started panicking as John Crosic came closer and closer towards her in her bathroom. She searched around her quickly, looking for something she could hit him with. "Now Maggie, are you all right? I wouldn't want anything to have had happened to you. You took off from the car before I could see how you were, before I woke up even. Now just let me see if you're okay." John knelt down and brushed Maggies hair out of her face. She tried to fight him off. "Maggie you are deranged. Don't be frightened, it's me, John," he said, trying to calm her.  
  
In the living room, there was loud banging. "Open up! It's the police! We know you're in there John Crosic so come out with your hands up so no one has to get hurt!" came the Sheriffs yells. Crosic turned around. "Maggie?! You called the police? What is the sense in that! You know who I am!" John hoped Maggie would remember him. "I know who you are and you're trying to kill me! Get away!" Maggie covered her face, hoping John wouldn't hurt her. "That's ridiculous, why would I try to kill you? Maggie, I love you!" John pleaded with her but Maggie was set in her decision. She knew he was the murderer.  
  
Soon after, the police broke down the door and ran into the bathroom, pulling John away from Maggie and handcuffing his hands behind his back. One of the deputies got Maggie up from the floor and put a blanket around her. He led her out to the living room where he sat her on the couch. The sheriff led John out the front door and loaded him into the back of the police car before taking off for the station.  
  
"Did he hurt you?" the deputy that had picked Maggie up off the floor asked, caringly. "N-no. I'm-I'm all right. Thank you." Maggie held herself in a ball shape on the couch, pressing her knees close to her chest. "Would you like me to stay with you for a little while? I haven't any work at the station." "No no. I will be fine. I am just a little shaken. Thank you." Maggie nodded at the deputy and he nodded back . He rose from the couch and left Maggie alone in her house.  
  
Maggie leaned over the side of the couch and lit a lamp. The light blinded her for a few minutes until she got used to it at which point she lit the rest of the lights in the room. She locked the front door and made sure that all the windows and other doors in the house were locked before settling back down on the couch. She closed her eyes and held her hand up to her mouth, covering a yawn. She had had a hard and eventful evening. Maggie felt a headache coming, something that was not unusual to her with everything that was now going on.  
  
As Maggie sat and thought about what had happened earlier this evening, fear still throbbing through her veins, she wondered if she had been wrong to call the police and have them arrest John. She was so sure earlier that he was the murderer and that he was trying to kill her that she thought she may have acted a bit drastically. Could Maggie drop the charges? Was she even going to press charges against the man she thought she knew?  
  
Maggie looked above the fireplace and into the mirror nearly frightening herself with her reflection. Her hair was tossed about and--the worst she had ever seen it. She had dirt on her face and her clothes were torn in a few places. There were two small cuts on her left cheek that had already scabbed over as well as a cut on her forehead. Maggie knew she had been through an ordeal and even though she didn't plan on going out and doing anything more on this night, she still felt she needed to clean herself up and make herself look presentable to—well, herself.  
  
Maggie rose from the couch and as she did, something in the mirror caught her eye. There was a splash of red that wasn't there when she was looking into it before, and Maggie went back to stand in front of the mirror to figure out what it was. When she stood in front of the mirror and her reflection was seen, the red disappeared. Maggie moved aside to see what else was being reflected in the mirror. The bay window with all the paintings sitting in it was what Maggie saw, and in the center was a certain surprise that Maggie wished she hadn't noticed and frankly that wasn't there.  
  
She took her eyes away from the mirror and walked around the couch to stare at the painting of her mother that was now covered in blood. Why was it covered in blood? Maggie wasn't bleeding that heavily and she knew that one of the policemen didn't sustain an injury or else she would have seen the blood before this. The blood dripped down out of the painting and onto the floor and Maggie bent down. Staring at it she put her fore and middle fingers into it, the same ones that were already stained from John's shirt, and raised it to her nose and smelled it. It smelled like paint, but Maggie knew that it was real blood. When Maggie looked back up to the painting she saw that the blood had all dripped off of it in a matter of seconds and she saw something that frightened her more than she was frightened before. Her mothers clothes in the painting were blood stained, and the woman whom Maggie called "mom" was holding a large knife in one hand and a rope in the other. The painting cackled causing Maggie to jump back and hit her head on the back of the couch.  
  
Chapter 16  
  
Maggie Evans walked into the Collinsport Inn, reporting for the job that she didn't need to report to. Since she was the manager and owner of the Inn, she really didn't have to be there, but liked to work in the coffee shop anyway. After putting her purse and a few bills from the Inn that she had taken home to look over but didn't actually get to, in her office, Maggie joined her coworker Debby in the coffee shop. "Mornin' Mag," Debby greeted her boss as she washed her hands. "Hey," was all Maggie said. "Somethin' wrong?" "No, why?" "You seem a bit out there today." "Really? I hadn't noticed." Maggie yawned and covered her mouth with her hand. "So what's been up? You haven't been to work in the last couple days." "I dunno, I just didn't feel like coming that's all," Maggie said, sitting on a stool behind the counter. "That's unusual. Have you been getting any sleep lately? You seem tired." "Maybe that's it. I'm tired. I didn't sleep well last night. I had a dream that my mothers portrait had blood dripping down the front and stuff, and it made me so paranoid that this morning when I got up I put that thing in the laundry room, and locked the door." Maggie laughed. "Stupid I guess." "It is odd. I mean, why would it frighten you that much?" "I don't know. It was one of those dreams that seemed so real, but you are really sure that it can't be because it isn't believable." "Maybe it was real and you just thought it was a dream because you were so tired last night." "It could have been. I wouldn't put it past myself for it to be real, given the things that happen in this town."  
  
Maggie got up, not wanting to be sitting and doing nothing, and started taking down the chairs and putting them on the floor. After she was finished, she went over to the front window and switched the sign to say 'Open'. "You know Maggie, I read about how you had John put in jail." "Read about it?" Maggie said, not even caring to talk about it. "Yea, it was in the paper. A huge front page article about how you thought that John attacked you and that he was the murderer and so you had him sent to jail. But it didn't say if you pressed charges. Did you?" "No, she didn't," John Crosic's voice broke in. "Mornin' all," he said, sitting at a table. Maggie wasn't sure if she should talk to him or not, but decided to anyway. "How are you doing?" "Well, considering that I spent a night in jail and that everyone in town has been giving me strange looks today, I s'pose I'm doing all right." "That's good," Debby said, walking over to his table to take his order so that Maggie didn't have to. "What can I get ya?" "Coffee, black." "No pie?" "No thanks, not today. I'm not really in the mood for pie, hear it's been poisoned by some madman." "That was a cheap shot," Maggie said to him. "Look, if you've got something to say about me sending you to jail, spit it out or shut up." Maggie was surprised by her own frankness. "Well, since you offered, I do have something to say," John paused. "I don't know what the hell your problem was that night, but I was only trying to help. If you weren't so paranoid about people trying to kill you, maybe you would have seen the simple fact that was right in front of you." "If you hadn't of busted down my front and bathroom doors, maybe I wouldn't have had you arrested. I could have had you charged with destruction of property. Why didn't I think of that before?" "Because you were to freakin' hung up on the fact that someone might have been trying to kill you when in fact they were trying to help you." "How the hell was I supposed to know that? Your voice sounded sinister when you came towards me, we had just come from a murder scene, I found a bloody shirt in the back of your car, and god knows what else could have been back there, so you really can't blame me for acting the way I did now can you?" "Oh no, that's where you're wrong. I CAN and WILL blame you. You are the one who called the police. You are the one who had them arrest me. You are the one who accepted the ride home with me in the first place! You could have made a thousand different choices, but instead you chose to make the ones that you knew were going to lead me into getting arrested." "The only reason I took a ride home from you was because I trusted you! Let me make a note of that." Maggie went over to the board with the title of "Daily Specials," and picked up the dry erase marker. "Do not accept rides home from John Crosic. There, that better for you? Now I will know not to accept rides from you anymore."  
  
"Both of you stop it! You are acting so damn childish!" Debby shouted, bringing John's coffee over to him. "Shut up!" They both said to her at the same time. Debby looked offended. "Look, you can say anything you want, but I will still and will always believe that it was your fault that you got hauled off downtown. You were the one who was acting like a maniac." "Well, next time I try to help you, what should I act like? A pink fairy princess or something?" Maggie laughed. "It would be kind of funny seeing you in a pink dress." "And it would be kind of funny seeing you actually act like a lady," John said, taking a sip of his coffee. Maggie slapped him hard across the face, causing him to spill his coffee on himself. "Now get out of my coffee shop! Leave now before I call the cops on you again!" "Well, we now know who the crazy asshole is, don't we?" John rose from his seat and walked out.  
  
Maggie sat down in a chair at the table that John had just been sitting at moments earlier. She signed heavily, and then looked at Debby. "I'm sorry for doing that whole thing in front of you, but I had to get it out of me." Maggie folded her arms together and put them on the table, laying her head on top of them. "Well ya know, it wouldn't kill you to be nice to him would it?" "I guess not, but if you were in my place you know you would have done the same thing." "Okay, you're right, I probably would have, but I don't know if I would have taken it that far." "I know, I know. I got into the moment. He was sitting there egging me on and I fell for it." Debby looked at Maggie. "Do you love him?" "What? How can you ask me that after what just happened." "It is a simple question. Yes or no. Do you love him?" Debby walked over and picked up the cup and saucer John had left on the table. "I.." "No, YES or NO. No in-betweens." Debby said forcefully. Maggie looked at her. "I can't answer—" "NO! Yes or no! No other words but one of those two!" Debby knew she was going to get the answer out of her somehow. "NO! Are you happy now?!" "No, I'm not. Let's not lie to ourselves Maggie." Maggie looked at Debby. She was beginning to get on her nerves. "Damn it! How do you always know! I swear I will never tell you anything again!" "It's one of the perks of being your best friend, getting to know you and what you are thinking so well." Debby was satisfied now. Maggie had confirmed what Debby already knew. She loved him. "Now get in that office of yours and call him! GO!"  
  
Quentin sat in the drawing room at Collinwood, bored out of his mind. Carolyn had left earlier to go shopping. 'Like she really needs anymore clothes,' Quentin thought to himself. She had offered him a ride into town if he wanted it, but he declined. Now he wished that he hadn't of. David had recovered mostly, though he still had aches and pains now and then. David had went with Carolyn into town.  
  
Quentin sat and thought about what he could do to pass the time before tonight. Tonight was the night he was to change into that awful beast for the first time in years! Andron was gone, at least as far as Quentin knew. But how could he be gone? Quentin had watched him explode into millions of tiny sparkly pieces, and be sucked into an invisible hole in Quentin's room! What would Quentin do without Andron? Should he do what Andron told him to do and lock himself up somewhere other than the Old House? Quentin knew of no other place. Sure, he could lock himself up in Collinwood somewhere, but the doors of Collinwood were no where strong enough to hold the werewolf in a room. And Quentin couldn't lock himself in a cell in the basement of Collinwood because he was sure that either Carolyn or David, or even one of the servants would hear him.  
  
There were just to many things to think about. Like what did Andron mean when he said find the person confined to a canvas? Who was that person and where was Quentin to find them? This was all to confusing. Looking over to a table beside the chair he was sitting in, Quentin saw the newspaper. He picked it up. It was today's newspaper. Flipping it over, Quentin saw a huge headline which read "Local Girl Believed to Have Found the Murderer."  
  
When Quentin had finished reading the article, which was about Maggie having John arrested and sent to jail, Quentin decided that he should pay Maggie a visit and see how she was doing. Putting the paper down, Quentin left Collinwood.  
  
Arriving at Maggie's cottage, Quentin got out of his car and walked up to the porch. Knocking on the door, Quentin waited for Maggie to answer, unsure about whether or not she would be home from the Inn yet. "Who is it?" came Maggie's voice from the other side of the door. "Maggie it's Quentin. Quentin Collins." Maggie opened the door. "Please, come in Quentin." "Thank you." Maggie and Quentin sat on the couch. "To what do I owe this visit?" "To the article in the Collinsport Star. I read it and I just had to pay you a visit. How are you?" "Oh, that, yes I heard about it. I am okay, all things considered." "I can't believe that John could be the murderer. Is he?" "I don't know. I can't really be sure. All the things that happened in order just made me think he was, I guess. He came to the Inn this morning and I went off on him. We had a good popcorn fight, you should've been there," Maggie laughed, referring to a figure of speech that she had heard Quentin say to piss Carolyn off before, meaning that they should have brought popcorn to the fight because it was a good one. "You'll have to tell me when you are going to fight with someone like that so I can come and invite guests." They laughed together. "Would you like some tea?" Maggie asked, hearing the tea kettle screech in the kitchen. "Yes, please." Quentin said. Maggie left and went into the kitchen.  
  
Quentin rose from the couch and walked around Maggie's living room. He stood at the bay window and examined all the paintings that her father had completed before he had died so many years ago. Quentin was surprised that she hadn't sold any of them yet. Squatting down, Quentin examined a portrait of a woman with blonde hair that caught his eye. She was strikingly beautiful. "A person confined to a canvas," Quentin whispered to himself. "Maybe I should go to an art gallery." Quentin continued to examine the painting. "No need to go to an art gallery, dear Quentin," a voice came into his head. "What? Who?" "Me. Look at me. Beautiful, aren't I?" the voice came into Quentin's mind again. "Yes, you are."  
  
"Quentin who are you talking to?" Maggie's voice broke into the mind conversation Quentin was having with whatever else was in the room. "Uh, no one, just thinking aloud." Quentin walked over and sat back down on the couch and took the tea from Maggie. "Thank you." Quentin sipped his tea. He looked at Maggie, noticing that she was dressed up, to dressed up for the house. "Do you have plans tonight?" "Yes, but don't worry you aren't any trouble. After I had my fight with John today I called him. I left numerous messages on his machine, none of which he returned so I am going over to his house to apologize." "What for? He is the one who terrorized you," Quentin put his tea cup down on the coffee table. "Well, according to what you read in the article that would seem so, but I was assuming to much and I should have thought rationally." "But all the things that happened made you that way! You were distraught at someone being killed at the Inn! John should have been a little more considerate when you didn't want him to be here." Maggie paused a few seconds before saying something back. Quentin had changed, he was much more caring now. But what had caused it? "Yes, that is true, but I could have been a bit calmer. Besides, you know what they say about assuming. When you assume, you make an ass out of you and me!" Maggie and Quentin laughed.  
  
Quentin looked over the back of the couch at the painting of the blonde woman. "Umm, Maggie, who is that painting of? The portrait of the blonde woman, who is it?" "Oh, that's my mother. Pop painted her before she died." Maggie sipped a bit of tea. She had brought the painting out of the laundry room when she had arrived home, knowing that she had been stupid for putting it there.  
  
Quentin looked at Maggie when she told him who the painting was of, and then looked back at the painting. It winked and smiled at him! Could he have found the person confined to a canvas??! He knew he had. The problem now was, how was he going to get the portrait back to Collinwood? He would have to steal it. 


	5. Part Five

Chapter 17  
  
Quentin had returned home after his little talk with Maggie, and was pondering how he could steal the painting of Maggie's mother. He finally came to the conclusion that he would steal it when she left for John's house, which would be at 6:30 p.m. He would be cutting it close to the time the moon rose, but he had to take that chance.  
  
A hour later, Quentin headed out the door with a bag hanging over his shoulder. He first headed the cemetery, where he went inside of the Collins mausoleum and dropped off the chains. He bolted them to the wall and then left, heading for Maggie's house. When he did reached Maggie house, he hid in the woods, watching her as she stepped out of her front door and locked it. She got into her car and sped off. Quentin came out of the woods and walked up to the door of her house, being sure that no one was watching. He dug into his pockets and pulled out a credit card, which he shoved into the crack between the door and the frame. Fidgeting with it for a little bit, he heard the lock pop. Shoving the card back into his pocket, Quentin turned the door knob and went in.  
  
After closing the door, and locking it, in case Maggie came back because she forgot something, Quentin searched through his bag for a flashlight. When he found one, he pulled it out and turned it on. Waving the light around the room, Quentin looked around. He walked over to the bay window, and found the portrait sitting there where it had been when he was there earlier. He picked the portrait up, and smiled at the thought that he hadn't been caught. Then, he heard the door knob start to turn. He looked over and the door was opening!  
  
Quentin dove behind the couch, hoping that whoever it was wouldn't see him. It was Maggie, and she walked around the front of the couch and into the kitchen. Quentin didn't move. A minute later, Maggie exited the kitchen, carrying a necklace, a locket, that she obviously had forgotten. She turned the light off in the living room and locked the door, shutting it behind her as she went out. Quentin sighed heavily, sighed of relief. When he heard her car pull out of the driveway, Quentin stood up. He walked up to the door and placed his ear up to it, listening for Maggie outside. When he was sure that she was gone, he unlocked the door and opened it. Locking the door again, Quentin walked out, shutting it behind him.  
  
When he got back to Collinwood, at 7, he raced up to his room, through his black coat, bag, and portrait into his room, carefully hiding his portrait under his bed, and rushed back out. He left Collinwood again, not even acknowledging Carolyn and David in the drawing room. He went to the cemetery, and quickly ran into the mausoleum. He pulled the ring in the lions mouth, telling it to hurry up so he could get into the secret room. Once the door was open, he went in, and quickly shut the door behind him. He turned to walk down the steps, but instead fell—the pain was starting.  
  
Quentin felt a sharp pain in his abdomen, and he screamed aloud and it panned throughout his body. He dragged himself across the floor, trying desperately to get to the shackles on the wall across the room. Another sharp pain hit him, and he again yelled out. He balled up so that his head touched his knees, and he wrapped his arms around his stomach. The pain was getting worse. Quentin looked at his hands. They were starting to get harry. He dug his fingers into the floor and attempted to crawl across the floor again. He reached the shackles, and when he tried to pull himself up so that he could chain his wrists in, he couldn't for another sharp pain went throughout his body.  
  
Quentin ripped off his shirt, and watched the wolf hair spread up his arm and down across his breast, down to his waist. His feet were beginning to hurt, he suspected from his feet growing larger and not fitting in his shoes. He took his shoes off, and as yet another sharp pain shot throughout his body, his feet grew to the proper size they were supposed to be in wolf form, and ripped his socks in half. The transformation was coming quicker that Quentin had expected. His muscles grew larger, his hair on his head grew out of control. The teeth in Quentin's mouth grew sharper, fangs growing from his once human sized canines. He was still aware of what was going on, but wouldn't be much longer for the wolf would completely take over. His calf muscles grew larger, ripping his pants at the seams, the two halves falling to the ground. He was completely naked now, the wolf had almost completely taken over. With the last shred of human mind that Quentin had, he threw himself backwards at the wall, holding his wrists up. He hit the wall, his wrists landing in the shackles, and the wall shook, causing the shackles to close around his wrists. This is what he had hoped for.  
  
The transformation was nearly complete, the wild hair traveling past his stomach and through his groin area, around his manhood, and in-between his legs. He howled and snarled as the wolf took over.  
  
Maggie knocked on John Crosic's door. She waited a few seconds and then knocked again. A few seconds more, the door opened. "Maggie!" John said, genuinely surprised. "May I come in John?" Maggie asked, shuffling her feet across the porch boards. "Uh, sure." John opened the screen door for her and moved aside letting her in. He then shut the door and joined her in the living room. "Please, sit down." They both sat. "John I just wanted to—"Maggie stopped. They had both started out saying the same thing, except John had put Maggie's name where she had put his. "You go first," John told Maggie. "O-okay. John I just wanted to—I mean I just wanted to say that—well, what I'm trying to say is that I'm sorry." Maggie began a bit slowly. "I'm sorry I had you arrested. I'm sorry I chewed you out at the diner, I sorry for everything John. I'm just, just sorry." Maggie finished the speech by blurting, trying to hurry and get everything out before she forgot it. "Me to. I'm sorry for everything. For the diner thing, for scaring you after the crash, for everything," John said with ease. His practicing in front of the mirror had paid off. He had in fact been getting ready that same night to go over to see Maggie. "Well where does this leave us?" Maggie asked. "I guess it leaves us as we were before, as long as you're comfortable with that. It leaves us as.." "...as a couple?" Maggie asked, looking at John and then staring back at the floor. "Yes, as a couple." John looked at Maggie and she looked up, meeting his gaze. He rose from his chair and moved over to the couch to sit next to her. They sat, staring into each others eyes, examining each others soul.  
  
'Could this all be a lie?' Maggie thought, then quickly dismissing the thought from her mind. How could she even think that now? The man had apologized to her, and she should accept that. She knew she should. But, she just had to accept that there would always be some part of her that had those thoughts about John, however untrue they were. John caressed her face with his hand. He ran his thick fingers down her cheek and under her chin. Leaning in, he kissed her gently, and although resisting at first, Maggie soon returned the kiss. He put his hands on her shoulders and pulled her close. She didn't resist. They kissed each other with passion, and Maggie ran her hands up and down his back.  
  
Maggie started pulling John's neatly tucked in shirt out of his pants, and then used her hands to unbutton it, her lips never leaving his. He laid back so that his back was flat against the couch cushions. John let Maggie unbutton his shirt, and when she had reached the last button, he lifted up and took the shirt off, tossing it to the floor. Maggie ran one of her hands down his chest, across his muscular breast and washboard abdomen, and kept the other on his face, kissing him all the while. John began to lift up her shirt, and Maggie lifted her arms, allowing John to lift the shirt off easier. He threw it to the floor and it landed on top of his. Maggie kissed John's lips and down his neck. She continued down his chest until she reached the top of his jeans, which she started to unbutton.  
  
While Quentin howled at the moon from inside the mausoleum's secret room, down at the Old House events were happening. In the drawing room of the Old House, a blue light appeared and it got larger and brighter until it filled the room, racing up the stairs and under the shut doors leading to other rooms and out the windows. A portal opened, and five things walked out. They weren't human, and they weren't alive. They were the hunters Andron had told Quentin about, the ones that he told Quentin would come to the Old House.  
  
A face appeared in the portal. It spoke to them: "Akisk loty fredu wesbentaiy. Kisu unt anopel ghusndu btyrnargf. Xesinatao naing luia gerdnty. Gsi! GSI! FUATYE HAGYR OAIJNA! FUGHTY NOA! FUGHTY NOA! FUGHTY NOA!!!!!!"  
  
All the hunters nodded to the face in the portal and turned to search the house. The portal closed behind them.  
  
Two of the hunters went out into the foyer and up the stair case to explore upstairs. One went out into the foyer and headed through the thick iron door leading to the basement. The other two remained on the ground floor, and went exploring. The hunter who went into the basement checked the main room at the foot of the stairs first. It was nothing but a large empty space. It checked every cell but found nothing. It was a good thing that Andron had warned Quentin about chaining himself up at the Old House, for if he had of, the cell that the hunter was in now would have been the one he used, and he would have been caught.  
  
An hour later, after searching over the whole house, the hunters met back in the drawing room. The portal appeared in front of them, and they stepped though, going back to hell.  
  
The morning sun rose and found people all over the place. Maggie was still at John's house—they were both on the couch sleeping under a thick wool blanket, embers in the fireplace giving off what last bit of heat they could muster.  
  
Quentin was still in the secret room of the mausoleum. Even though he couldn't tell, the sun had completely risen. Slowly, the snarls and howls of the wolf died down until the wolf was calm. The wild and thick hair covering Quentin's body slowly receded, leaving him with the hair he had before he changed. His biceps and triceps shown in his arms, well defined, as he grimaced and tightened his muscles from the pain of changing back. The hair from his legs disappeared and his leg muscles tightened, as well as his thigh, abdomen, and chest muscles. The hair from his face was gone now, and his handsome features shone once again. His body was limp against the cold wall, and he shivered from the cold.  
  
Quentin woke up from his unconsciousness and looked around. His wrists hurt, and they were wounded with bruises and cuts from the shackles. Quentin knew that he must have tried to get out of the shackles during the night. Quentin brought his hands together in front of him, the chains on the shackles just long enough for him to be able to unlock himself. He unlocked his right hand first and then his left hand. He trembled from the coldness of the room. He was still completely naked, and as he stood straight up for the first time all night, he felt the cold dampness of the room press against his body. His muscles stayed tight, trying to conserve the heat they did have. His groin area tightened and pulled close to his body, trying to keep all the warmth inside. Quentin hunched over, wrapping his arms around his stomach and kneeling to the ground. He reached over the pile of what was his clothes, and sifted through them, seeing if any of them were salvageable. He could still wear his shirt, even though the arms had been ripped off, and the last four inches or so were shredded. A result of Quentin's thrashing during the night, he was sure.  
  
Quentin walked over to the steps and pushed one aside, pushing the little button underneath of it which opened the door for him to get out. Once the door had opened, Quentin pushed the step back over and walked out of the door way. Turing around, Quentin pulled the ring in the lions mouth he had pulled the night before to close the door. Once he was sure the door was closed, Quentin turned around and left the mausoleum  
  
Outside was a bit warmed than the cold secret room, but not by much. Quentin sprinted though the woods, eager to get back to Collinwood as soon as he could before someone saw him running naked through the woods. He kept one hand over his more damageable parts, and with the other arm he brushed branches out of the way. On the way back to Collinwood, he acquired a few small scrapes on his legs, arms, and chest, from briars hanging off vines that were growing on low-hanging tree branches.  
  
Nearing Collinwood, Quentin could smell the smoke from the chimneys in the air. He looked up to see how close he was getting, and in that instant he tripped over tree root and threw both hands into the air to catch himself before he fell. It didn't work. Quentin fell down a hill and rolled, hitting a tree with his back. Quentin looked down at his feet which were red from the cuts they had sustained from the branches on the ground, and noticed that something, most likely a stump, had cut his upper right thigh. Quentin rose from the ground with a grunt, and grimaced as the pain from his fall hit him. Quentin held one hand over the cut on his thigh, and limped back to Collinwood.  
  
Chapter 18  
  
Maggie woke up, still laying on top of John on the couch. She had had the best night of her life last night, so passionate was it that she could compare it to nothing else, not even her time with Joe. She pushed herself up so that she was sitting, and slid off the couch, tying the blanket they had slept under around her. She took another blanket off a nearby chair and covered John with. He wasn't naked, he had his boxers on, but it was cold in the house.  
  
Maggie walked into the kitchen and made a pot of coffee, turning it on after she had finished. She sat down at the round kitchen table and put her head in her hands—she was still tired. Leaving the kitchen, Maggie walked down to the end of the hall and opened a door which lead to the bathroom. She went inside and slid the glass door to the right, and turned the shower on and felt the water until it became hot. When it did, she dropped the blanket to the floor, got in and closed the door. She let the warm water fall about her body, and put her head under the faucet to let her hair get wet. Maggie ran her hands over her body to rub whatever dirt she had on her, off.  
  
The door opened and John walked in, closing the door behind him. "Mind if I join you?" "Not at all," Maggie said. John slipped his boxers off and let them fall to the floor. He walked over and opened the sliding glass door, and, after stepping in, closed it again. John stepped behind Maggie and pressed her close to him, kissing the back of her head and then turning her around. "It was great last night," he told her kissing her lips. "Yes, it was," she said after the kiss. John put his hands on Maggie's shoulders and rubbed them, comfortingly.  
  
After the shower, Maggie and John drank a morning cup of coffee together. Then Maggie left and went back to her house. Once there, she changed her clothes and got a few papers together before heading to the Inn. When she arrived, she put her things in her office, as always, and joined Debby behind the counter in the diner.  
  
"So, do anything good last night?" Debby asked, wiping the counter off. "No, not really. I went over to John's house to apologize to him for our fight," Maggie said, tying an apron around her hips. "And?" Debby asked, throwing the rag she was using into the sink. "And what? I said I was sorry, and he said the same, we had some coffee and I left." Maggie didn't know why she didn't tell Debby about what had really happened between her and John last night, but she just didn't feel like she should tell her. "Mmmhmm," Debby said. "What? I'm not lying to you. Why would I do that? I've always told you everything, and if there were something to tell I would have told it. Period." "Fine, fine. You don't have to tell me, I can guess what happened." "Well guess all you want but I will neither confirm nor deny anything." Maggie sat on a stool behind a counter as an older man came in a sat down at one of the tables. Debby went over to take his order.  
  
Quentin opened his eyes as a small thread of bright sunshine shone in through a crack in his drapes and onto his face. He had made it back to Collinwood without being seen, and up to his room as well. He hadn't bothered to dress in night clothes or anything, he was so tired that he simply flopped down in his bed, pulled the sheets over him and went to sleep.  
  
Throwing the sheets off of him, Quentin sat up and rubbed his face. He grimaced a bit from the pain of the injuries he gained from falling in the woods. When he stood straight up, he looked down at his bed. There were a few small spots of blood on the sheets, from his cuts that he had neglected to bandage before flopping into his bed. Turning around, Quentin caught site of the portrait of Maggie's mother that he had stolen the night before, which was sitting propped up on a chair. Maggie hadn't even noticed that it was gone when she returned home—she had rushed in so fast and out so fast she barely noticed anything at all.  
  
Quentin stood there, staring at the portrait for a few moments, before turning around and walking over to his wardrobe. He opened up the wardrobe and pulled out a shirt and some pants, draping them over a chair beside him. "You know, if I weren't confined to this portrait, I would be on you like white on rice," came a voice from behind Quentin. "Frank, aren't we?" he said, not surprised by Maggie's mother's portrait talking to him. He had been expecting it. "It's one of the traits that I had always wished would be passed on to Maggie, but instead she got her fathers shy and quietness. But, yes, I would definitely have been all over you, especially given what I have seen of you now and last night." The portrait looked him up and down. "You know, it's kind of ironic, this situation is. I always preyed on women and wanted their bodies, and here I am, being looked up and down by you," Quentin said, now facing the portrait. He slipped one leg after the other into his pants and then pulled them up and buttoned them. "You have a point there, dear boy. Now, tell me why you took my from my daughters house." "I need you to help me." "Well obviously. You wouldn't have taken me if you didn't need me. Now what do you need me for?" "I am told that you can make a potion that can cure me of my werewolf curse if I release you from your canvas." "It is true, I can make such a potion, but it shall not be cheap." "What do you mean? Certainly you do not want money. What else could you need?" Quentin turned and picked up his shirt and pushed his arm through the sleeves. Pulling the front together, he buttoned it up. "No, I need not money. You see, I want to get out of this canvas, but there is only one way to do that." "What is it?" "Murder. All those murders that have happened in this town, the killer is me." "What? How?" "I made a deal with the devil. The deal was that he would work the spell that would release me from this confinement, but only if I helped to collect souls for his imminent return. I am to kill 7 people, and when the seven are killed, the devil will release me." "Well how many have you killed so far?" Quentin asked, sitting in the chair he had his clothes draped over. "Six, as of this moment." "Six? But only three people have been killed recently." "That is true, but remember those murders a few years back? Yes, those were me to." "How do you know who to kill? Do you just pick someone?" "He tells me who to kill. He wants people with sins, they will make him stronger." "And you is your last victim?" "I thought it would be you, but it's not." "Then who is it?" "John Crosic. And if you want me to help you, you have to kill him for me." "Why can't you do it? You get released every time you have to kill someone don't you? You are more than capable of doing it yourself." "Ah, see, that's the catch. For the last murder, I have to find someone willing to kill the person for me. That is why I have been trying to drive Maggie out of her mind. I mean, I love the girl, she is my daughter after all, but she was really the only person I saw. But now that you need my help, you can do it and I can let my daughter lead a normal life." "You want me to kill the only person that Maggie has loved since Joe died? I can't do that!" "Why not? She'll get over it. I mean, she's not married to the guy like she was to Joe. It was painfully hard for me to kill him when I had to, but I want out so I did it. I have to get rid of my emotions when I do this, or else I would be stuck here forever." "Don't you think that's a bit selfish?" "Oh, and you are one to talk huh? Were you not selfish for your whole life? Treating women as sex toys and what not? Dumping them when you lost interest and picking up another?" "Yes, but I've changed." "No you haven't. You haven't changed a bit, or else I wouldn't be sitting here talking to you right now. You are still selfish because if you hadn't been, you wouldn't have stolen my portrait to use to your own advantage! So don't go off like you are high and mighty because you're not! You're just as selfish as I am!"  
  
Quentin didn't know what to say. She had a point, and he knew it. "Go ahead, tell me I'm right because I know that's what you're thinking. Now, John is to be killed tonight, sometime after 8p.m. It doesn't matter how you kill him, just as long as he is dead by the time you are finished. Leave the body, and it is up to you to not get caught." "What makes you think I am going to do this?" "Because you and I both know that you are a selfish little boy, and you will always get what you want. Now go downstairs and make like nothing has happened. They are going to start worrying about you. Am I talking to a wall here?!? GO!" the portrait shouted at him. Quentin walked over to it and grabbed the frame. Carrying to portrait over to the wardrobe, Quentin opened the wardrobe up and put the portrait inside, closing the door after. Then he left the room.  
  
Chapter 19  
  
The day passed by as boringly as possible for Quentin. He tried to amuse himself with books in the library, but he couldn't keep his mind off of that portrait. By no means did he want to go back upstairs and talk to that thing again, but what it had said to him and asked him to do really got to him, which had never been a problem before. Quentin knew that the portrait was right. He was selfish, and he could never escape that. Even though he had changed so much in the little amount of time that he had been back at Collinwood, one thing about him hadn't changed—he was still a self-loving selfish little child, hiding his fears away deep inside of himself, where he was sure no one could find them, but someone did. Quentin probed his mind, trying desperately to figure out how she did it, how did she know him so well? How did she know what he was thinking at the moment he was thinking it? Did she know him that well? Quentin knew one thing for certain and that was that she knew him only to well, when he didn't even know what her name was, or anything else about her except that she wanted to take away the life that her own daughter was trying to rebuild after years of living a lonely one. How could she be so cruel to do this to her own daughter? How could she tell Quentin not to call her selfish when she was being the same way he was? They were both such hypocrites that it wasn't funny, and Quentin knew this. The biggest thing that he could figure out was whether or not he would choose to be as selfish as Maggie's mother was choosing to be, and to go off and kill John Crosic. He had to be sure that he wasn't caught, and that meant careful planning, which is probably what he should be doing now, given that he would have to kill John in less than 5 hours. How would he be sure that he didn't leave any evidence behind? He couldn't take that long while he was at Johns house, and he had to make sure that Maggie wasn't going to be there, and if she was going over to his house that night, he had to choose whether to do it before she got there, or after she left. The latter would be less painful, because at least if Quentin killed John after Maggie left, John could have told her that he loved her, and Maggie wouldn't have to find his dead and possibly mutilated body when she entered his house. To many things had to be perfect, and there were way to many things that could go wrong. What would Quentin do to make sure that everything went smoothly? She would have to help. Quentin knew that he would have to get Maggie's mother to help him with a spell or something to make sure that everything went according to plan. This would be his way to test her to see if she was willing and strong enough to kill John, or if the reason she was trying to get Quentin to kill him for her was that she lacked the gut to do it herself. After all, she could have had a 2nd party killer kill one of the previous six who were killed, why did she decide to save John for last? Something was up with her trying to get Quentin to do the killing for her, and Quentin was going to find out what it was. But how? Surely she would see through him asking her to help in some way, wouldn't she? Quentin knew that he had to kill John Crosic to escape his curse, but was Quentin willing to sacrifice himself to endless nights of changing into that wild beast in order to save Crosic? He wasn't friends with him, but he did make Maggie happy, and Quentin was glad for that. He had just wanted Maggie to be happy when he got back from Georgia, and she was now, so who was Quentin to take that away from her? Speaking of who's who, who was Maggie's mother to take her daughters happiness away from her? It is a mother's duty to protect their child, and to be sure that they are happy in life, so how could she be so selfish and take away Maggie's happiness! Quentin was never that selfish, was he? He had never taken away someone's life and happiness, had he? Well, there was that one girl in Miami that he had done that to, she was the first to come to mind, but there were countless others, all strewn across the United States.  
  
Quentin had made his mind up, he was going to kill John Crosic. Who would know? He would, and that would be what got to him. He couldn't kill John. Even though he would be rid of his werewolf curse, he would have to live for the rest of his life with the guilt of knowing that he killed the last man that will make Maggie happy. No, he couldn't do it, he couldn't! No power in the world could make him kill John Crosic. But he had to! He had to be rid of the curse! He had lived with it because of something that his stupid great-great grandfather had done because he was selfish, so why shouldn't he be selfish and take something that he wanted and rid himself of the curse! It all made perfect sense! Yes! He would do it and rid himself of the curse, only to continue the selfish line in his family that....would only go on to ruin him. Now he was back to the point he had started at, that he couldn't kill John because Quentin had to stop the selfish line that went through his family, and save future generations from what would ruin them as well.  
  
At the Collinsport Inn, Maggie was leaving for the day. She had untied the apron around her waist and laid it on the counter. Going into her office she grabbed her purse and one file full of bills that needed to be paid. After saying goodbye to Debby, Maggie walked out of the diner and out of the main entrance of the Inn.  
  
Arriving home, Maggie put her purse down on the couch, along with her coat, and the file that she had brought home with her—she would get to that later. Going into the bathroom, Maggie turned the shower on, and felt the water to be sure that it was heating up. She then went into her bedroom and took her gold necklace off, as well as her watch, and laid them on the dresser. She then slipped out of her sweater and pants, before going back into the bathroom.  
  
A half hour later, Maggie emerged from the bathroom. She had taken her shower, dried her hair, and brushed her teeth, and was now going into her bedroom to get dressed. Maggie flipped through her closet full of clothes, trying to find something that she would look good in. Something that wasn't to formal, yet wasn't to casual. She found a nice white blouse, and decided that she would wear that, and laid it on her bed. She then went over to her dresser and opened the third drawer down from the top, and removed a pair of dress pants.  
  
After dressing, Maggie put her necklace and ring back on. She put a new red color of lipstick on that she had bought earlier today on her lunch break, and headed into the living room. Picking up her purse and coat, Maggie turned the lights out and left, locking the door behind her.  
  
Quentin left the library and went back up to his room in the West Wing. He couldn't stand to think about killing John Crosic anymore, and he had to talk to the portrait about it. Opening the door to his room, Quentin walked in, and shut the door behind him, locking it. He then proceeded over to his wardrobe and opened it up, taking the portrait out and sitting it on the chair it had sat on before he put it away. "It's about damn time you took me out of there! I was starting to suffocate," the portrait snapped at Quentin. "You can't suffocate, you don't breathe," Quentin said, sitting down in the chair across from the one the portrait was leaning on. "I'm not going to kill John Crosic for you, so I guess you'll be stuck in there forever." "Oh yes you certainly will! You are going to kill him whether you like it or not! And don't say that you won't, because you will, if I have to take extreme measures to get you to do it." "What are you going to do? Shake your frame at me? Stare at me or something? Because whatever it is that you think you are going to do, you aren't. You're nothing but oil with pigment, that someone splashed onto some paper." "Quentin you will kill John Crosic." "Oh, so you are going to try and annoy me to death are you? Well, there is more than one way to take care of that. Tell me, what would you do if I burned you right now?" "Quentin, you will kill John Crosic." "Is that all you are going to say from now on?" "Quentin, you will kill John Crosic." "Cut the shi—. I will kill John Crosic," Quentin repeated. "That's right. And when will you do it?" "Tonight." "That's right. Now, I suggest that you start planning for this, because I am not going to help you, and if you get caught, it's your ass." "My ass." "And that's a nice ass to waste to. So go over to your desk and make a plan for tonight and be sure that nothing goes wrong." "Nice ass, plan." "That's right." The portrait followed Quentin with its eyes as he got up and walked over to his desk, sitting down at it. He opened a drawer and took out some paper, and picked up a pen. He started scribbling across the paper.  
  
It was now 7:30 p.m., and the clock in Quentin's room struck the half hour mark. Quentin emerged from his closet doorway, and stood in front of his mirror. He was dressed in all black. Black pants, a black shirt, and ski mask to cover his face. Taking the ski mask off and sitting it on the table beside him, Quentin turned around and reached into his wardrobe and took out his long black jacket, that ended just before touching the ground. Quentin picked up the ski mask and stuffed it into one of the pockets on the inside of the jacket. Quentin then picked up the gloves that were laying on the table and stuffed those in another pocket. He then went over to his desk, and quickly scanned over the list of 35 things that needed to be done when he got to Crosic's house. Once he was finished, he picked up the paper and threw it into the fireplace.  
  
Going over to the table in the center of the room, Quentin picked up a rope and a knife, and stuffed the rope in another of the coats inside pockets, and stuck the knife in the knife holder he had fastened around his waist. Taking once last look at the portrait, and receiving a nod telling him he was ready, he picked the portrait up and put it in his closet, and closed the door.  
  
At John Crosic's house, Maggie and John sat in the living room on the couch, cuddled up together. They were holding each other, under a blanket, with a fire blazing the in the fire place, an old move playing on the television. Maggie laid her head down on John shoulder and whispered 'I love you' to him, to which he answered the same. They had grown surprisingly close in the days that had passed since she had had him arrested. Cups, one half full and the other a quarter full, sat on their matching saucers on the coffee table in front of them; the one belonging to Maggie was the less full one—she had been cold that evening for some reason, and she didn't know why. Maggie slipped out from under the blanket and told John that she was going to the bathroom and that she would be right back.  
  
Quentin watched her leave from outside, and after she cleared the corner and started down the hall, Quentin slipped his ski mask on as well as his gloves, and got his rope ready in his hands. Quentin got closer to the large window that he was watching through, and when he heard Maggie close the bathroom door, he took a few steps back. Maggie and John had been watching the movie in the dark, which would only help to hide Quentin when he went in. Quentin took quick steps forward and then jumped just before running into the window. Quentin crashed through the window, the window shattering as he did, and the glass and wood frame went flying everywhere, falling inside on the floor, and outside on the ground.  
  
John was so taken aback, that he didn't know what to do, and Quentin was standing right in front of him before he realized what was happening. In the bathroom, Maggie had just flushed the toilet, and wondered what the noise was. "Wh-who-who are you?" John said, standing up. "What do you want?" John stepped back and tried to take a swing at Quentin, but Quentin blocked Johns punch and hit John in the head, dropping him to the couch. Quentin pulled out the rope and wrapped it around John's neck, and drug him up from the couch so that he was standing straight up in front of Quentin. Quentin pulled the ropes tighter and tighter around John's neck, and John threw his hands up at Quentin's head, trying to hit Quentin so that he would loosen the rope around his neck, but it wasn't working. John then put his hands to his throat and tried to dig his fingers under the rope to pull it loose, but instead he was clawing away at the skin on his neck. Quentin took a tighter hold on the ropes and then started spinning John around, making him trip over the coffee table and fall into the television, knocking tea all over the floor.  
  
Quentin snatched John up and threw him against the wall, and began violently hitting him in the face over and over and over and over and over again until by the time Quentin stopped hitting him, John was knocked out on the floor. Quentin then picked John up, still holding the ropes around his neck, and slapped John a few times until he woke up. Then Quentin started tightening the ropes again—he wanted to watch as John gasped for air. It was becoming an obsession for Quentin, something that he was getting off for doing, something that he wanted to get the most pleasure out of before it was over.  
  
Down the hall, Maggie opened the bathroom door and listened to what was going on out in the living room. She began sobbing, but quickly covered her mouth in an attempt to mute any sounds that might let the killer know that she was there. She silently crept down the hall, all the while tears streaming down her face and falling onto the floor. Maggie approached the corner but was afraid to look around it. She watched in the reflection in the mirror hanging on the wall, which shown everything that was going on.  
  
John gasped for air, he was on his last few breaths, and Quentin released the ropes, but only slightly. Just enough for John to draw air in again. Quentin let John take in the air until he was starting to breathe normally again. John wondered it the man was going to let him go, but then he tightened the ropes again.  
  
'Who could this maniac be?' John thought to himself, starting to gasp again. John raised his leg up and stomped on one of Quentin's feet. Quentin let out a yelp, and hit John in the back of the head, and then threw him into one of the book shelves that were built in one of John's walls. The shelves broke, and the books and other items fell to the floor. John felt something falling down his head. It was warm, and he thought it to be blood, which it was.  
  
Around the corner of the hall, Maggie whimpered as she watched what was going on. How could someone be this way? Why did this person want to kill? Maggie wanted to help John, but she didn't want to die so young. She couldn't muster up enough bravery to do anything about what was going on—only enough to stand and watch a reflection of what was happening and cry her eyes out until there were no tears left to cry. Oh how she wanted to do something to save the man that she was now falling in love with. Why did the men she loved have to be killed? Why did she have to suffer through her life and be lonely all the time?  
  
Quentin tightened the ropes once again, and pulled them tighter and tighter and tighter yet. John's arms dropped from his neck and hung limply at his side. He was starting to fade, and this time Quentin would let him go. The gasps now were few and far between, and soon they stopped coming almost altogether, only a gasp per minute or so. Maggie stood around the corner. She had to do something, and even if she stepped out of the hallway and into the living room, it may scare the killer away. Mustering up every ounce of courage she had, she lifted what felt like iron legs, and slowly stepped around the corner. Quentin looked up and saw the fear in her eyes through the ski mask, and something clicked. He was killing her one last chance at happiness, and somehow he knew that he didn't want to do it and that all he wanted was for her to be happy, and to live her life to the fullest.  
  
Quentin released the rope, dropping it to the floor, and ran across the living room. Diving out of the living room window, Quentin landed on the ground and began sprinting through the woods. Suddenly, he was tripped, and he fell to the ground, hitting the base of a tree extremely hard. His head hurt, and he reached up to feel the back of it—there was blood there. Just before he blacked out, Quentin saw many hands coming down to grab him, and yellow-red eyes sparkling in the moonlight. 


	6. Part Six

Chapter 20  
  
"Wake up Quentin. Wake up Quentin. Wake up Quentin. That's a good boy," Quentin heard this voice calling to him. He started opening his eyes. His head hurt and his vision was a little blurry, but soon corrected itself. All he could see was darkness, and a few seconds later the same yellow-red eyes that Quentin had seen before going unconscious appeared before him. Quentin felt something brush by him, but couldn't see it in the darkness. Suddenly, torches lit up all around him, illuminating a room that he was in. The light blurred Quentin's vision once again, and when his eyes got used to the light, he looked around. He was in a stone wall room, and the torches hung every few feet around the room, the fire blazing. "Can you see Quentin? Is everything better?"  
  
A figure appeared before Quentin. It was a man, with long silky black hair that hung to his shoulders. The man seemed to be shrouded in black, as he was wearing all black clothes and his eyes were black as well. His skin was very pale, and his long gangly fingers, as was the rest of his body, came up and slapped Quentin lightly on the face. "Shackles tight enough?" the man asked Quentin. Quentin didn't say anything. It seemed as if he had forgotten how to form words. He was trying to talk, but the message was getting lost somewhere between his brain and his mouth. "Good."  
  
The man circled Quentin before stopped once again in front of him. "I trust you recognize my servants?" the man asked Quentin, as demons emerged from thin air. Quentin recognized them as the things following him in Georgia, and when he came back to Collinsport. They are the things that captured him. "Now Quentin, I know what you're thinking, and you are right. I am the devil. The being that idiot Andron warned you about. It's to bad about him you know."  
  
Quentin tried to say something but his mouth wouldn't move. "Would you like to speak? Do you promise not to say anything out of line? Okay," the Devil waved his hand and Quentin could finally speak. "You caused Andron to disappear! You are nothing but a cowardly asshole!" "Now Quentin, you promised," the devil waved his hand and Quentin could no longer speak. "By the way, you can address me as Lucifer, Diabolis, or some people like to call me Joe when they plead with me, though I don't know why," He smirked. "I bet you're wondering why I brought you here, are you not? Don't bother answering. I brought you here because I can use you now! You've made it possible for me to use you to bring myself into being in the earth realm! You don't know how long I have been waiting for that to happen. Over thousands of years, I knew you were coming, and that I had to lead you the right way and now you've done it!" Lucifer circled Quentin again, and while passing behind him he waved his hand so Quentin could speak once again. "I didn't do anything! I stopped before I killed John!" "That is true, but you did nearly kill him, which is a sin. Attempted murder is a sin Quentin, you should know that." "I still say you're an asshole," Quentin scowled at Lucifer. "Well, that's you're opinion. But enough small talk. What I really need from you right now is for you to tell me how far you went before stopping with John." Lucifer paced the floor in front of Quentin and when he stopped and looked at Quentin, Quentin was shocked. "This is but one of many tricks," Lucifer said, looking like the beaten John Crosic.  
  
"So this is how far you went?" He held out a hand in which a mirror appeared. He held it up and looked at the reflection. "Not bad. Not bad at all. The face is messed up, but nothing surgery won't fix. You came this close!" Lucifer held out his thumb and forefinger, leaving a gap about a centimeter in between. "Why did you stop?" "I wanted Maggie to have a happy life, I wanted to escape you," Quentin answered, though he really hadn't said it. "Yes, I wanted to escape you," Lucifer said, now looking like Quentin and Quentin looking like the Devil had when he first appeared. "I wanted to escape you, to live a normal life that I knew wasn't possible; to spend eternity in misery because I am a self-righteous prick!" Lucifer changed into the long black-haired man he first appeared in, and Quentin changed back into himself. "Look at you Quentin. You are a pitiful being. After all these years of killing, of hurting, of sinning! you decide that you want to be the hero and stop yourself, to give someone else happiness so that you can suffer? What about me Quentin, what about me? Should I have to suffer because you want to be a softy? I mean really. SUCK IT UP!" Lucifer screamed and the echo pounded in Quentin's ears. "You rely on people to commit sins so that you can return? How pitiful is that? Why don't you with your almighty power just come back by yourself?" "Must you ask these ignorant questions? You are a smart man, figure it out. Someone way up there," he points to the ceiling, "WANTED TO MAKE SURE THAT I NEVER GOT OUT AGAIN! ISN'T THAT RIGHT?" the Devil screamed, the echo again ringing in Quentin's ear. "But you see, I found a loop hole. I need but a number of sins to be collected and I am able to return. That is why I sent Linda up there. LINDA!?!"  
  
A few seconds went by with nothing happening. Then, a cloud of dust started to form and from the dust a shape formed. When the dust settled, Quentin could see it was the woman from the portrait! Maggie's mother! "Hello there Quentin. I was quite disappointed to find out that you melted like ice cream on a summer day, halfway through your deed. I thought I did everything I cou-" "Well obviously you didn't do everything, or we wouldn't all be here now, and I would be up there!" Lucifer interrupted her. "Now, there is a pressing issue at hand. How are we going to make John die so that I may collect my sin? Linda, go up there now and stand in the middle of the road leading to the hospital. Maggie and John have just turned onto it in the ambulance. NOW GO!" Lucifer cried. Linda disappeared with a tornado of dust.  
  
Appearing right in the middle of the road, Linda could see the flashing lights far off in the distance. He huffed herself up and a bit of blood appeared on her face. Some running from her mouth, some from her nose. Cuts split open, and her clothes transformed into ripped shreds of a dress. The ambulance approached, and the driver screamed and swerved to the right a bit. 'What am I doing?' Linda thought. She realized what she had to do, and promptly disappeared before the driver completely ran off the road.  
  
Down in Hell, Quentin's shackles broke loose and his arms fell to the ground. "NO! What is happening! NO! Linda has betrayed me! LINDA!!!! LINDA!!!!!! LINDA!!!!" Lucifer screamed as beams of red light started streaming out of him. Quentin did not where to go, there didn't seem to be a door leading out of wherever he was. Linda appeared and looked at Quentin. "Go! Get out of here!" she pointed to the right and a door appeared. Quentin didn't hesitate, he ran over to it and opened it. "NO! I will not loose this battle!" Lucifer looked over at the door Quentin opened and it slammed shut, nearly catching Quentin's hand in it.  
  
Lucifer looked around, and made all the torches fall to the ground, which was now freshly littered with debris, easily burned. One torch fell onto a pile of hay, another on a pile of wood, and another on leaves. "You will not escape! You shall not prevent me from my evident goal!" "Yes, we shall," came a voice from Linda's mouth that was not hers. The persona of Linda disappeared and Andron formed. "You will not escape the bowels of hell to which you are so easily confined! It is not meant to be, I will not let you!" Andron said in a voice not his own. Andron was wearing a red robe that laid limply over his body, and as he took a few steps forward towards Lucifer, is drifted in the air. He raised his right hand, and made the Devil fly through the air and hit a wall. With the snap of his fingers, the fires that were blazing about were put out.  
  
"Who do you think you are? Challenging me?" Lucifer stood up, not fazed by flying into the wall. "You know as well as I do who I am," said Andron, but his voice wasn't his own, it was a woman's. "Quentin, you may leave now." "But I must stay and hel—"Quentin tried to finish but was immediately cut off by Andron, who waved his hand and made Quentin disappear. Quentin reappeared in the drawing room of Collinwood. "Again I ask who you are," Lucifer said walking towards Andron. "Halt your movement," Andron held up a hand and stopped the Devil in his tracks. "You have known me for many years, and I was your humble servant before I pledged to do good to make up for my deeds," Andron took a step towards Lucifer and with the step, changed into Angelique. "I should have known it was you. You were never that loyal to me, love always got in the way somehow or the other." "Yes, you should have known me. Now it is my job to put you in your place. You have tried to return for years, but I will prevent it," said Angelique, standing in her white flowing gown that made her look angelic. "And what powers do you hold that I've not given you? You say you will defeat me, but you shant and we both know it." "I told you, I work for someone else now to make up for my deeds. Use your brain, have you ever hesitated to use it before? I am now employed by your only rival, and it is by his power that I shall defeat you." "So, you've gone to the other side. Not unlike you. But really, you still haven't learned that talking is a waste of time." Lucifer held up his right arm and Angelique slowly began rising from the ground. When she was suspended in mid air, he used his magic to throw her across the room and towards a wall.  
  
As she was flying, she spread both arms out to her full wingspan, and slowed herself. Bringing her palms together and to her chest, Angelique concentrated for a moment, and then flung a huge ball of white at Lucifer. It hit him and flung him back into a wall, and when he fell to the ground, an indentation was left in the wall. Angelique reached her hands towards the sky and then quickly threw them back down again, causing the ceiling to fall on him, heavy rocks and boards crushing his body.  
  
Floating over to the pile of rubble, Angelique looked down. "I told you I would win, for no longer am I one of your minions, I am now a God."  
  
Suddenly, the rubble shot out in all directions, and a bloodied Lucifer rose from the ground and floated inches from the floor. He shot at Angelique, and they flew quickly across the room, and into and through the wall at the opposite end, into another empty space. Angelique fell to the floor from the attack, while Lucifer remained upright. He bent down and grabbed her by the neck, and threw her into another wall. She hit it and hard, and fell limply to the ground. He motioned with one of his hands for her body to float over in front of him, and it did so. When it came to rest, Lucifer moved his right arm up and down, and Angelique's body went from floor to ceiling, back and forth, hitting each level hard before falling or rising to the opposite, and then doing it again. Once this had gone on for about five minutes, he threw her body over into the left wall, and she merely hit it and fell to the floor.  
  
Chapter 21  
  
Quentin paced the drawing room at Collinwood, wondering what was happening in Hell. He would sit down to ponder, then get up and start pacing around the room once again. Quentin went over to the bar and poured himself a drink, just water, hoping that it would act like brandy or one other of his favorites and calm his nerves.  
  
Carolyn entered the drawing room without noticing Quentin, as the bar was behind the right door entering the room. She sat on the couch, and Quentin turned around, glass in hand and walked towards her. "Hello Carolyn," he said, sitting down in a chair across from her. "Oh, Quentin, you startled me. What is that you are drinking?" she asked, thumbing through a file she had brought with her into the room. "Sorry. It is only water. Don't think I've gone back to my usual drinking habits again, because I haven't and never will. What is that you have there?" Quentin asked, sipping his water. "I had a psychic do a paranormal investigation on our property to see why all of the weird happenings with supernatural creatures and time warps, are always happening on the grounds of our estate. This file holds all the information she found, and what her conclusion is." "And what kind of things does she say cause the paranormal activities in our house?" Quentin asked, setting his glass down on a table to the side of his chair.  
  
"Well, I had her come into the house at different points during the year. The first time she came was on Mother's birthday, in March. Then on Uncle Rogers birthday, in May. Then she came on my birthday in August, and then once again on Halloween, of course. She spent the whole day in the house each time, starting at 12 midnight, and ending at 12 midnight, each time she came. While she was here, she documented any arguments that went on in the house, anything that happened out of order, and anything that went wrong in plans that any one of us had." "And did she find anything?" Quentin asked, picking up his drink and sipping it. "Well, yes, she did," Carolyn said flipping through a few pages until she found one she wanted to read from. "On Mother's birthday, the first day she was here, there was an argument between David and Angelique, Angelique and me, and you will remember her argument with you?" "No, actually I don't." "Well, anyway, she noted all of those. Then, on Uncle Rogers birthday, she noted that a picture in the west wing fell from the wall, that there was a heavy thunderstorm, and that there was a fight between you and I," Carolyn paused and looked through a few pages for the next set of highlighted notes. "Then, on my birthday, she noted that it was miserable for me, and that I had to help advise David on a business deal that went awry," Carolyn paused to flip to the page to find out what happened on Halloween. "Then, when she came back on Halloween, she noted nothing but quiet, and peace for once in the house." "So what does that mean?" Quentin asked, putting his water glass down after half emptying it.  
  
"Well, she did some research to try and find out why things would happen that would upset the whole household one everyday but Halloween, and after laboring for long hours, according to the psychic, she found the answer. She said that our house, Collinwood, is situated on top of what is called..." Carolyn trailed off as she once again flipped through a few pages and then found what she was looking for, "...what is called a 'Hellmouth'. Basically, Collinwood sits on one of a few mouths of hell. There is another in California, and Ohio. After taking a few readings with her psychic abilities throughout the house, she found that the mouth of hell is right under this room. That is why everything happens on the estate. The Hellmouth acts as a magnet to draw all things evil here. She said she was surprised that we weren't all dead yet, and that the house was still standing." "When did you have this study done?" Quentin asked, draining his glass to be a little less than a quarter full. "About a year ago. I think it is interesting that this room sits over the mouth of hell. Its kind of scary to." "Yes, scary indeed," Quentin said. He pondered the thought, and took a sip of his drink.  
  
Angelique lay limply on the cold stone floor. Lucifer stood over her, smiling an evil smile. "I told you, you would loose my dear, and so you have. It's a pity you couldn't have put up more of a fight, but, since you didn't, I must go now, I believe Quentin is just about to open up a portal for me to walk back into the world through." Lucifer walked over to the right wall and stood, waiting.  
  
Behind him, Angelique woke up. She tried to get up, but couldn't, she hurt to bad. There was blood running from her mouth, nose, eyes, and ears. She wasn't going to live through this, though she was supposed to be an immortal. Could it be possible that she to had to become mortal to fight Lucifer? She slowly floated herself upright, and floated a few inches off the ground, blood dripping all around her. "You....haven't......won......yet......" she said.  
  
"So, you are still alive, begging for more pain?" Lucifer turned around. "Not begging, giving," Angelique uttered as she threw a powerful fire ball at the Devil, which consumed him in its white glory, and nipped at his black clothes. Angelique floated towards him. "You shall loose, as I said before," Angelique said in barely more than a whisper. "Not so....long as......Quentin does what......he needs to," Lucifer said through gritted teeth. This white fire was painful, and draining him of his power. "Go ahead Quentin, drain the glass," Lucifer said.  
  
Back above ground, inside of Collinwood in the drawing room, Quentin downed the rest of the beverage in his glass.  
  
"Good boy," uttered the Devil. Suddenly, the white fire was consumed in red, and brilliant orange red beams shot from the tips of Lucifer's fingers. His eyes turned bright red, and his hair a deep velvet crimson color. "See....(gasp)...I told you I would...(gasp)..win," he said. He couldn't breath, but he wasn't dying. He was ascending to his earthly form.  
  
Angelique rushed towards him through the air and slammed him into the wall. She kissed him, passing her power of goodness into him, attempting to stop him from making it to the earth realm.  
  
He pushed her away after a minute, and his body was engulfed in a bright red color. "Thank you for that (gasp) burst of energy. I rea(gasp) really needed that." His eyes met with hers, and great red beams shot from his eyes and went right through her, taking her white glow and bringing it back to him. Angelique fell from the air to the floor, quickly. As the bright red filled the room, Angelique was blinded, and then fell unconscious.  
  
In the drawing room at Collinwood, Quentin went over to the bar and set his glass on it. The room began to shake violently, and Carolyn dropped the files out of her lap. Pictures fell from the wall, vases from tables, lamps fell to the floor as well. Chairs were over turned by the sheer strength of the shaking, and the bay windows as well as all the windows in the house shook. Some of them broke out and glass littered the ground.  
  
Carolyn ran over to Quentin, who held her protectively in his arms. The floor in the center of the room began to split open, and a great circular hole formed. It began a whirlpool, sucking everything in the room into it, and releasing unimaginable heat. A bright red glow filled the room, and Lucifer slowly rose out of the whirlpool, his body still engulfed in the same red color it had been before.  
  
Lucifer's hands were outstretched to the sky, and the great red beams exiting from his finger tips cut through the upper levels of the great house, and right up into the sky. Red light filled the sky, and the ground around Collinwood, taking over the whole town of Collinsport in a matter of seconds. Great laughter echoed throughout the town, and people in restaurants and stores ran from them into the streets, and hid in dark shadows of the town.  
  
As soon as the great red beams of light hit anything, that thing was immediately vaporized. Buildings fell down around their occupants, killing them in an instant. People flooding into the streets were turned to dust when the light hit them. The grounds of the Collins Estate were bare now, and the Old House had been turned to nothing but a large pile of ashes.  
  
As Lucifer's magic spread throughout the town, vaporizing everything in its way, it approached the edges of the town. The magic hit Collinsports boundaries, and stopped abruptly. There seemed to be some kind of magic wall preventing the magic of the devil from going outside of the town and destroying the whole world. Lucifer hadn't time to deal with this. He stretched out his arms further, and forced more power from his finger tips and palms. This barrier surely would be no match for him. As the magic was pouring out of him, it was just as quickly absorbed into the protective walls. The walls bent outwards as more power was forced against them, and ripped it a few places, but overall held together.  
  
Minutes later, Lucifer had exhausted his power, and the barrier was still standing. It glistened white in the light protruding from the red in the sky. Lucifer tried to force more power out of his body, but it wouldn't come. The Hellmouth began to swirl creating a suction pool that was sucking everything down into it. As Lucifer began to get sucked down into it, he screamed and howled in pain. "NOOO!!!!" he would yell out. He had to do something, something to escape, but what?  
  
Balling up in a cat-like sleeping position, the Devil conserved his energies. After a few seconds, he reached his arms out into the sky once more, his fists tightly balled at the end, in a Superman flying position. He grunted and yelled as he tried to force himself out of the Hellmouth, and with a sudden burst of energy, he broke free and flew off into the sky, breaking through the ceiling of Collinwood.  
  
With Lucifer's great exit, there came an enormous rumbling, much worse than any earthquake that could ever hit any place on earth. The ground began to shake violently, and Collinwood began to tumble. The great beams of the ceiling fell to the floor, all around Quentin and Carolyn, who were now laying unconsciously on the floor, having fainted from fear. The ceiling fell onto the walls, which could barely support its massive weight. The tower room imploded within itself and was laying in pieces on the ground within a matter of seconds.  
  
The walls soon crumbled under the immense weight of the ceiling, and Collinwood fell completely to the ground, the once great mansion now reduced to nothing more than a pile of rubble. The earth began to sink under the weight of the houses rubble, and the rubble with it. As the earth sank, the rubble went with it, and when it was all finished half the pile of rubble lay six feet into the ground, while the other half of the pile remain on two feet above the surface.  
  
Collinsport, once a bustling town, was now nothing more than a great black spot on the surface of the earth, and Collinwood, once a great house a top a cliff so massive that it could scare the light stomached away, was now nothing more than a small pile of rubble protruding from the extremely watered down visage of the rolling bump the great cliff had now become.  
  
Few spots outside the great barriers of Collinsport had been hurt. Spots of the state of New Hampshire, New York, Vermont, Massachusetts, Connecticut, Rhode Island, and of course Maine, had been hit, the most areas-five others- in Maine. The other states only sustained minimal damage, with buildings tumbling to the ground, and great craters forming where the earth broke. Only one other town in Maine had been hit as hard as Collinsport, and that was Rockford, in which the main village had been leveled with one beam of the devil's red magic.  
  
Chapter 22 Conclusion  
  
"Quentin have you seen my coat?" "Yes, it's in here honey," Quentin said, getting up from his chair and picking the coat up from laying over the one opposite him. "Oh, thank god! I've been looking for that coat everywhere in this house!" said a brown-haired woman as she entered. She was strikingly beautiful, with blue eyes, full luscious lips, and he hair made a statement of its own as she walked and the wind blew through it. "I wondered if you would be needing this. It is quite chilly outside." Quentin handed his wife the jacket and kissed her lightly on the cheek, smiling. "Yes, it is chilly outside, and no doubt will be more so on the beach. Why do you want to walk along the beach in December anyway?" She put the coat on and buttoned it up. "It was something I used to do when I was a boy in Maine," he told her, ushering her out of the room and down the hall to the front door. It hurt to think about Collinwood, and he didn't like to dredge up the memories of what had happened. His life hadn't been pleasant there, as it was now. "Are you ready then?" she asked. "Yes, I'm ready, Kathleen Collins," he said, opening the door for her to go out. He grabbed his coat and closed the door behind him.  
  
Kathleen gave him a look that said 'what?'. "I just want to get used to hearing your name that way. After all, you are my wife now, and Kathleen Collins has a certain ring to it that lets it roll right off your tongue." Quentin put his arm around her as they walked down the path. "Yes, I suppose you are right. Kathleen Collins. I rather like the ring to it as well." She put her arm around him, and laid her head on his shoulder as they walked.  
  
Carolyn and Quentin hadn't escaped from the pile of rubble easily. Quentin woke first, and could hardly move. They were enclosed in a very small space, with enough air to last them maybe a half hour. Quentin had no idea where he was at first, and he tried to wake Carolyn up, but she wouldn't wake.  
  
Quentin began to get worried, wondering where they were and what had happened. He remember the Devil coming up through the Hellmouth, but he didn't remember much after that. He looked around and spotted a broken up painting and a smashed lamp that he recognized as being in Collinwood. He also noticed that carvings on the wood laying around them, and after taking a while to put two and two together, he figured out that Collinwood had collapsed over top of them. He didn't know how deep under the rubble he and Carolyn were, but he knew he had to get out and fast.  
  
Quentin was afraid to move anything, for fear that the whole pile may collapse on top of the two of them, killing them. He looked over as Carolyn started to wake up. She screamed loudly, and Quentin reached over and set a hand on her shoulder, to calm her down.  
  
"Where are we?" she asked, still breathing heavily. "I think Collinwood collapsed on top of us," Quentin said. He was remarkably calm, though he didn't know why. "How are we going to get out of here?" she asked, trying to push a board, but immediately stopping upon hearing the whole pile shift and creak. "I don't really know. I too scared to move anything. It might all collapse on top of us."  
  
Carolyn looked around. There wasn't much to see, but she spotted a sliver of light peeking through a hole in the rubble. "Over there. Maybe we could get out there," she said.  
  
Quentin looked over to where she was pointing, and hunched as close to the ground as he could possibly get, and crawled over to the spot. He looked up through the hole. He motioned for Carolyn to come over, and when she was beside him, he looked at her. "I think you will be able to fit through there," he said.  
  
"Are you sure?" "Yes. Be careful though, you don't know what kind of sharp objects could be up there. And be careful in what you touch. It could bring the whole pile down on top of us."  
  
Carolyn nodded and took a deep breath. She eased her way up into the hole, and began to slowly climb. Dust and dirt fell as she touched anything, and Quentin shielded his eyes, still trying to keep an eye on her. Carolyn didn't want to do this, but she wanted to live. She was most afraid of bringing the whole pile down on top of her brother once she was out.  
  
She climbed for what seemed like ages but what was actually only five minutes, and she peeked her head out of the top of the hole. Her clothes were ripped, but that was only to be expected given the conditions. She squinted in what little light there was, and pushed herself up. She got her head and shouldered through, but when she tried to get her waste through the small hole, she got stuck.  
  
Quentin had started climbing up the passage when Carolyn was halfway up, and found many difficulties given his size. He found it hard in some spots to fit his shoulders and hips through some spaces, and where he had to force himself through, his shoulders and arms were bleeding. He reached the top, and stopped when he was right behind Carolyn. Quentin slipped an arm between him and the rubble, which was hard enough as it was so he didn't think about trying to slip the other one through. With his right arm, he gave Carolyn a heave, and after a few pushes Carolyn was out. Quentin climbed to the top, cut open his left shoulder getting them past, and Carolyn had to pull him out after that.  
  
They were both out now, and standing atop the overwhelming pile of rubble. They looked in every direction, and as far as they could see there was nothing. Everything had been leveled. The sky was gray, from the dust rising after all the buildings collapsed, and the gray cloud covering the small town in Maine was so large that it was spreading across the state, and could be seen from space. Carolyn and Quentin were both just glad to be alive, but at the cost of loosing all of their friends in the town; it was a heavy price to pay for two lives.  
  
They had both wondered the town, looking for survivors, but after seeing nothing but debris strewn everywhere, and great heaping piles of ashes, they stopped in the middle of the town, standing on the very spot where the Collinsport Inn had once stood. They both looked down the street, and saw nothing but black, so they walked down there, and found the sign that used to hang outside the Blue Whale. Carolyn picked it up and held it close to her, a kind of memory of what used to be there. The water was now black instead of blue, and all the two of them could do was look out over the vast black field that had once been their home.  
  
Quentin and Carolyn moved down to New York, and bought a 200 acre piece of land on the west side of the state, that boarded a river running along the border of Canada and the United States. They had to make another home for themselves, and they wanted to be far enough away from Collinsport, Maine so that they wouldn't be able to go there without traveling for a period of time, but yet close enough so that it wouldn't take them that long to get there if they wanted to go. David had been out of town that evil day, and had escaped the wrath of Lucifer. Quentin and Carolyn notified him of it, and he made a home for himself in the town of Harbor, Connecticut, not far away from Quentin and Carolyn.  
  
The house was large, larger than Collinwood, if you can believe that. There was the Main House, which was roughly 15,000 square feet. From the west of the house was the West House, which was connected to the main house by an inclosed walkway, and the West House was roughly 10,000 square feet. The East House was the same, connected to the Main House by a inclosed walkway, but off to the east of course, and encompassing the same amount of area. Off from the main house there was a smaller cottage, if cottage be the appropriate word, that was 50,000 square feet. The total cost for this lavish mansion, furnishings and all, was $12 million, which was paid in full cash from funds in a Collins Swiss bank account.  
  
Shortly after building this mansion, Quentin met someone—Kathleen Thenman. The two of them fell madly in love, and quickly. Quentin made Kathleen his bride not a year after, and Carolyn, who had lived in the Main House, now moved into the West House to give Quentin and Kathleen their space to be and love together.  
  
Quentin and Kathleen now walked on the beach, arm in arm, and Kathleen's head leaning on Quentin's shoulder. She bent down and picked up a shell and handed it to him, she wanted to keep it. It was amazing how they could communicate without talking, just by looks an gestures—that was what had brought them together in the first place.  
  
Quentin took the shell, which he thought was quite beautiful himself, and unbuttoned his coat, to put it on an inside pocket, so as to be sure it wouldn't be lost. She was a crafts person, and he knew that it could be useful to her in making some kind of art. Opening the pocket, he tried to put the shell inside, but it was blocked by something already there. Quentin pulled out a small piece of paper, and replaced it with the shell. Unfolding the paper, he found it to be a letter, in beautiful penmanship he knew, but couldn't readily identify. Quentin held the letter up so he could read it, and it said:  
  
Dearest Quentin,  
  
If you are reading this then I am no longer with you, and you and Carolyn survived the terrible ordeal. Do not grieve for me, for I fulfilled my destiny by dying for the two of you.  
I pray only that this letter shall reach you, and you may know of the things to come. He got away Quentin, and Lucifer will look for another way to return. You must stop him, it is up to you now. Whatever you face you will always prevail over his evil, no matter how bad it is. I swear to you Quentin dearest, that should you need my assistance I will make every effort to help you, but you cannot rely on me alone. You must seek the help of those from afar, those whom you would not normally wish to talk with.  
I wish you luck Quentin, and please be cautious of the dangers that threaten you, and of those evils who watch you.  
  
Forever Yours,  
Angelique  
  
Quentin folded the letter up and arched his arm backwards. Moving his arm quickly forwards, he intended to throw the letter away, to rid himself of the reminder of what had happened one year ago. He quickly decided against it, and stuffed it back into his inside pocket, next to the shell.  
  
"What was that darling?" "Nothing, just a business paper I forgot I had."  
  
Quentin and Kathleen Collins walked along the beach, arms around each other. Kathleen reached for Quentin's right arm, and when he had it in her grasp, she placed it on her stomach and smiled up at him. He had a look of surprise on his face which quickly changed into a smile.  
  
They kissed in the light of the sunset, as the sun was falling below the horizon. 


End file.
